I love train trips! Even the short half-hour trip to Chivasso to visit beloved grandchildren and daughter has a charm of its own. Slowly the train accelerates, wheels click-clacking with hypnotic regularity. I gaze out of the window at field and forest, cocooned in the warmth inside the coach.
Muffled conversation lulls my senses and I slip deeper into the moment, noticing the deep green of newly planted fields and the bright glow of spring sunshine. Lifting my gaze, I’m awestruck by the distant Alps. Powdery peaks line up as far as the eye can see, anchoring me in this place, this moment. There’s Monviso, one of the highest peaks, towering over Turin. A hawk hovers over a newly turned field, perfectly balanced in the morning air, while a coven of evil looking crows struts the field, pecking and squabbling. The track beats the rhythm of my destination like a simple repetitive prayer. My heart aches with the sheer beauty and oneness of it all.
Then, the familiar curve as the line enters Chivasso. The coach leans to one side. Brakes screech as it slows..until…..finally…….. it stops. Doors hiss and airlocks release with a thud – slide open. We’re there. Down the steps, through the underpass, up the other side.