On Sleeping

This is a meditation of sorts that I wrote on the train awhile ago. It's not the kind of thing I would normally post here, but it's the kind of thing that I do I normally write. I like looking at people on the subway and creating histories for them. I wrote three short profiles that day of people on the train with me, but this one ended up to be more about sleeping than about the girl who was falling asleep. I hope you like it.


The train rumbles, shaking and rocking along the tracks, through the tunnels towards Manhattan. Wrapped up in her warm jacket, hood up and arms folded against her chest, her head begins to nod as the train lulls her into sleep.

It always happens like this. Parents who take their children for long drives to lull them to sleep find years later that their tiny tots, stretched out with the magic of time, are now the adults whose eyelids get heavy on short car trips to the market. The ones who nap during their half hour commute and revel in the long stretches of sleep that can only be found on a transcontinental flight.

Her purse is secured tightly in her lap; or perhaps tucked next to the rail, an arm intertwined with the strap. Her chin begins to lean against her chest, and the lullaby of the conductor is the only thing she can hear.