I wrote this last night while on the last train home and wanted to share it.
It’s well past midnight, and I’m on the last train home—an unusual choice for me on a Saturday night. Normally, I’d stay out until the bars shut, the streets emptied, and my body gave in to exhaustion. But tonight, something feels different. Tonight, I’m just done. So, I make the rare decision to head back early, boarding the last train out of central London.
I find a seat, still slightly tipsy, my wallet noticeably lighter after spending more than a day’s wage on dinner and a few drinks. As the train hums along the tracks, my mind drifts, and my eyes land on a couple sitting nearby—probably in their late 50s. And just like that, a thought grips me with a force I wasn’t expecting.
What I Want Is Love—But Not Just Any Love
I want that old love.
Not just the fleeting, picture-perfect, Instagram-filtered kind. Not the kind that burns bright for a moment only to flicker out. No, I want something deeper, something lasting. I want old love—the kind that grows, evolves, and endures. The kind that doesn’t just survive time but thrives because of it.
I keep watching this couple, caught up in something so simple yet so powerful. The man—average-looking, nothing remarkable at first glance. The woman, on the other hand, has this quiet beauty, the kind that makes you certain she must have been breathtaking in her younger years. But it’s not about looks. Not really.
Then, I see it.
A Moment That Changed Everything
He leans in and kisses her. Not just a quick peck. Not just a habitual motion. First, a kiss on the lips. Then, one on the cheek. She closes her eyes as if to savour it, as if it’s a ritual they’ve repeated a thousand times but still means the world.
And then I notice something else—the way he breathes right after. A deep, contented sigh, the kind that speaks of peace, comfort, and absolute belonging.
That’s when it hits me.
I don’t just want a beautiful woman. Beauty fades. I don’t just want excitement. Excitement can be fleeting. What I want is someone willing to ride the last train home with me when we’re old. Someone who still reaches for my hand after all the years, someone who accepts me at my lowest and still chooses me.
More Than Just Love—A Promise
In that moment, on that train, I made myself a promise.
When I find that love, I won’t just hold onto it—I’ll give back even more. Not just with words, but with actions. I’ll show up, every day, in every way. I’ll be the one kissing her on the lips and then the cheek, making her close her eyes the way she did when we were young. I’ll be the one who still looks at her like she’s the best thing to ever happen to me, even when time tries to tell us otherwise.
Because that’s the kind of love I want. The kind that stays. The kind that grows. The kind that feels like home.
And when I find it, I swear—I’ll never let it go.
If this reflection resonated with you, you might enjoy some of my other posts. Whether it’s about breaking free to explore the world on a solo adventure or embracing the unknown in life and travel, these stories all share a common thread—finding meaning, connection, and courage in unexpected places. Check out my thoughts on solo travel here: Breaking Boundaries: Empowering Solo Journeys for BAME Travelers and my take on embracing life’s uncertainties: Embracing the Unknown: My Takeaway for Travellers.
Im also available on Medium if you prefer an easy read on the train.
