My room gets really hot when the weather starts to get warmer, so a lot of the time I sleep with a window open. Sometimes I can hear a cargo train passing along the tracks at the end of my street. The heavy clanking of the metal carts against the ground used to be a sound that scared me, but as I got older I learned to love it. All I can think about is the train conducter, working into all hours of the night, in a secluded, isolated little booth and how he’d probably be anywhere else in the world. The sound of the cargo train makes me feel fortunate to be in my bed, drifting off to sleep. It reminds me that things could always be worse, and it makes me feel really lucky. It sounds like home.