The Quiet Car

My days are now defined by "the quiet car" on the Metra to and from the city.  Twenty-five minutes of blissful reading in quiet.  I even feel empowered to "shush" the errant commuter who didn't realize that he or she got on the "quiet car" by mistake.  "Shush - this is the quiet car," I announce with a gleeful Schadenfreude-like smirk!  And then I quickly settle down to reading Daniel Silva, Faye Kellerman, Sara Paretsky, Lee Child or Brad Thor.  I get so involved at times with my fictional "heroes" that I will even come home to read more about their adventures.

I wonder to myself, "Who am I turning into?"  I have taken up jewelry making, and reading after a hiatus of nearly 30 years, and watercolor painting whimsical animals with quirky personalities.  This is who I am after all those years of psycho analysis - and jobs that I hated - and condos that I tolerated.  This is who I really am.  A middle aged woman who wants and enjoys her quiet life.  Who likes the conversations she has with friends - and her sister, Deb.  Who is content with the day to day.  Who is delighted to be rid of the worst job I've had since I was 30.  Who will tell off the next boss who says to me, "Shhhhh, that's enough now."  I still resent him.  But maybe he got the hint when I didn't share my good email address - and didn't write him back.  How dare you "shush" me when it took me 19 years to get a voice.  Who do you think you are?  I should "unfriend" him on FB.  True to my personality though, I'm too nice to be really as rude back to him as he was to me.

I like me.  I like the quiet car.  I like having fictional heroes that I follow.  I like to think about them when I am not reading about them.  They fill a needed gap in my psyche.  These are people that I know that are defined.  They will not surprise me.  They will not disappoint me.  They are who they are and I accept them for that.   They accept me for being the reader who follows them.  All is good.