The Neverending Train

Augusta is the land of perpetual trains. It always has been.
When I used to work downtown, the trains would run through at the most inopportune times like 7:45a.m....when I had to be at work by 8 a.m., or 12:45 p.m...when I had to be back from lunch at 1 p.m. Of course, when I was weary from my day, trying to get home...yep, you guessed it; 5:10 p.m. - there I sat.
When I lived in South Augusta growing up, there was a train that ran near the house. You could hear the whistle at night mainly, when all was quiet and still.
Today, I live "in the city". Trains live here. They do not sleep. They never stop. It is a constant droan. Most nights I sleep right through it all.
But tonight I do not.
Tonight, I realize that there is a train yard somewhere close by. I hear the trains signaling with their horns - almost as if they're talking - as they switch cars, drop cars and attach cars. At some points, I am sure there has been a horrible plane crash or accident by the severity of the banging. Yet, its just the trains..doing what they do.
The constant chatter of trains is keeping me up.
If I stay in the guest house, I can barely hear anything. It is a low lying brick house. However, in my very tall, very wooden, 100 year-old Victorian, the sounds travel up and over the rooftops, through my walls and into my bedroom with ease.
I'd like to say that I can find relief from trains, but they follow me everywhere. My sister lives in the mountains of North Georgia. There, every two hours blows the train.
I have heard the silence - the pristine quiet of no trains a few times in life...like at the beach or far up in the mountains where the trains cannot climb. That's where I'm wishing I was tonight.