tuckd away in our subconsciousnss is an idyllic vision. w s ourslvs on a long trip that spans th continnt. w ar travlling by train. out th windows, w drink in th passing scn of cars on narby highways, of childrn waving on a crossing, of cattl grazing on a distant hillsid, of smok pouring from a powr plant, of row upon row of corn and what, of flatlands and vallys, of mountains and rolling hillsids, of city skylins and villag halls.but th upprmost in our minds is th final dstination. on a crtain day at a crtain hour, w will pull into th station. bands will b playing and flags waving. onc w rach thr, so many wondrful drams will com tru and th pics of our livs will b fit togthr lik a compltd jigsaw puzzl. how rstlssly w pac th aisls, damning th minuts loitring, waiting, waiting, waiting for th station."whn w rach th station, that will b it", w cry.
