Family on a Train

I was on a train going from the coast of Japan back to Tokyo when I saw a family of five: a mother, father, older sister, and two younger brothers. They took up a whole bench and were completely passed out. It was an incredibly hot day, and after hours in the sun my brain felt drained. My eyes wandered around the train, settling on this family as they slept—heads bobbing, bodies shifting, constantly readjusting.

This went on for probably half an hour until the father woke up. After a few minutes, he glanced at his still-asleep family. His gaze was so endearing and loving that it felt special even from an outsider’s perspective.

It’s officially been a year since I moved out of my “parents’ house.” I put that in quotes because they’re divorced but still living in the same place while financial issues get sorted out. That enough could help you understand how my parent’s relationship has shaped and hurt me. Watching this big family sleep peacefully together, with the father looking over them, made me feel like I missed out on that kind of love as a child.

So often, when something in my life goes wrong, I feel like a small child again. Maybe all I really need is to fall asleep on a train while someone makes sure I’m safe.

My quiet obsession with this family ended when the father woke everyone up as their stop approached. The youngest son struggled to wake, and while the rest of the family got off, he stayed on the seat with his eyes closed. Seconds passed, and no one came back for him—an older woman finally grabbed him and rushed him off the train before the doors closed.

That moment snapped me back to reality. It made me realize that, in one way or another, we’re all going to carry scars from our childhoods. Our parents will disappoint us, and they’ll give us many of our problems. But that’s okay. We all end up okay.