A photo and words, in no particular order: www.instagram.com/jerpink
They say you can’t go home again, but what is a home? It is a launching point, yes, from which a new stage of life begins, but it is also a place to dock. The home itself has not changed; it is only being viewed in a different way. We are what has changed.
This thought, and many others, floated between the ghosts upon their return to the station, which now lay in ruin: a lifeless memorial to a different time, though not too far gone. For each of the spirits, the first time they had seen the station had been the most beautiful. They’d pulled into the harbor from disparate lands, greeted by the strong but welcoming face of Lady Liberty. They were taken in and, from this train station, dispersed across the land—their new land, which eventually became their old land, but always a gift, even in death. And now they returned to where they placed their first steps. Many souls floated about the country, but almost without exception, they all returned here. The station on the mainland was the first thing they’d see. They’d move along the platforms, through the gates and the station, and toward the shore.
And from there, they could see her: their original host, herself an immigrant. Only now her back was to them, and beyond her, across vast seas, somewhere lay their original homes. The waters they had once crossed could be crossed no more. The spirits knew this, but still they returned to this shore. And where they once had pressed their heels, they now placed their toes, dangling over the edge. They gazed out across the water, wishing they could once again see the Lady’s face. And they hoped that it was still kind.