“Have a good day… on purpose.”

I’m sitting on the Northeast Regional Amtrack train going from D.C. to New York City. The conductor welcomes everyone as we file in. I hold the bagel in my hand which almost made me miss my train. I find an empty window seat. The boy in front of me is speaking in Italian to his mother. I stare out the window, trying to understand what he’s saying, thinking about how it’s been too long since I’ve called my Italian host mom to check-in. I wonder what she’s doing at this moment. Probably playing cards with her friend Carla. I wonder if her new host daughter has braved playing a game with them.

I still have sleep in my eyes from my rushed 7:45 a.m. wake-up. I start to think about how time is all relative. I haven’t seen my friend Thea in 10 months. I haven’t seen Sarah in over a year. It’s crazy how you can get so distracted in the day-to-day of things that time passes without you noticing.

“Have a good day,” the conductor says. “… on purpose,” he adds. I giggle. “What does that mean?” I wonder to myself. “On purpose?” I hear the man sitting across from me who reminds me of my uncle, wonder.

Trees whir by as I get caught up watching highlight clips from the Oscars and the Debbie Downer series on SNL. I text my mom to tell her I made it on the train. She sends back a picture of my dogs lying in the sun. I get an email that reminds me of all the internship applications I have to submit. I turn on Maggie Rogers, not wanting to open my computer yet. We pull up to a station. The train stops and people file on. I put my backpack on the seat next to me, hoping no one sits there. I feel a bit guilty for not wanting to share my row.

“Welcome to the Northeast Regional Amtrack,” the conductor says again. Maggie Rogers keeps playing in my ears as someone walks by, collecting trash. I pause my song so I can hand him my empty coffee cup. “Have a good day…. on purpose” the captain says again.

Suddenly, like a wave crashing in, it hits me. He’s telling every person who steps onto his train that good days don’t just happen to you… you create them. “Purposefully have a good day,” he’s reminding the little boy speaking in Italian, the man who reminds me of my uncle, the worker collecting trash. “Create a good day for yourself, don’t wait for one to come.”

“I think I will,” I think to myself as I think about finally getting to hug my dogs and my mom after months apart.

I wonder how many times I will think about the conductor on the Northeast Regional Amtrack on it’s way to New York. Probably not often, probably less often as time goes on.

But maybe, one day, when I’m 75 and I wake up and it’s raining and I burn my toast and the dishwasher breaks and I get in a fight with my partner and I go and sit on the couch and start to mope, I will think of the conductor on the Northeast Regional Amtrack on it’s way to New York. I will stand up, give my partner a hug, call the repair man, put lots of peanut butter on my toast to get rid of the burnt taste, and I will have a good day… on purpose.