By Cliona O’Reilly (A Chinkwell Writer)
It’s a four minute walk from my house to the train station, so I figured I’d be fine for the 8.14. The sky brightened over the Newbridge treetops in shades of pink and purple, promising a beautiful day. My pace quickened as I looked forward to a spectacular sunrise over the railway bridge.Then suddenly in the distance the announcement of the train approaching! An adrenalin rush as I clutched my rucksack to my back and mustered all my energy to run up that hill, willing my legs to run faster. A fleeting moment to savor the huge orange sun on the horizon at the brow of the hill before charging down to the station. “Don’t fall flat on your face!” I tell myself, slowing my pace. Fumbling for my Leap card I’m alarmed by the sound of the doors closing and the roar of the engine as the train prepares to leave.I race onto the platform, pressing the door button while desperately glancing down to the first carriage. The driver’s cheeky grin as he leans out the window gives me hope. I press my hands together, pleading and give him the thumbs up as the door opens to the huddle of Donabaters standing in the middle, packed like sardines on the ‘Intimate Express’. “Those Drogheda drivers are decent” I say before joining them. I move down the carriage to de-layer as the heat rises. The train crosses the estuary and the carriage lights up, transformed by the warm glow of the sunrise on the glistening water. I take a moment to store it in my memory to sustain me for the rest of the day and acknowledge my gratitude for living in such a beautiful place.