A Moment That Altered My Perspective: The Train I Was On Was in an Accident – and subsequently I Heard a Little Girl Weeping.
That instant I knew I was about to die occurred in my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My best friend, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to reunite with a former classmate who had recently moved there for work. Delighted to be together, and basking in the prospect of the upcoming weekend of fun, we chatted nonstop as we made our way by train from York.
We placed our luggage – packed with necessities such as bottles of wine and my new pair of black clogs – on the overhead rack and got seated in a snug pair of seats. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. Someone cried out as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a dreamlike pace. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. Looking down, eyes screwed shut, I waited for the carriage to overturn and ignite, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our loved ones receiving the notification. Subsequently, there was the little girl crying.
“Everything is okay,” I murmured, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I stated, primarily to calm my own nerves.
She was about seven or eight years old, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; now I could do something meaningful. I made my way to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Avoid looking back,” Helen yelled, too late. I glimpsed a man with blood all over his face. An enormous piece of metal had smashed through the window behind us. Later, we discovered a driverless construction vehicle had tumbled down the embankment and collided with the train, causing us to derail.
Our car was lodged with its nose pointing upward. Following that came of sirens and a man nearby asked me to pass the little girl to him so he could pass her through the window, while young passengers were extracted to fire crews on standby. A few minutes later, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and descending via a ladder down to the rails.
Once back on solid ground – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. My eyes scanned for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, who it turned out had been using the restroom at the time of the accident. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. Another traveler sat down heavily on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – but, by good fortune our wine remained intact. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we made our way in a provided car to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the woman who had damaged the suitcase. Our host was there, visibly shaken. She had heard there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and prepared some tea for her while she anticipated updates.
Bolstered by youthful resilience, we set the accident aside and proceeded with the social outing, which included a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, even though several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and aches and pains from the violent forward motion in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to enter Leeds station, which had been the key factor in avoiding serious injury. The fact that nobody was badly hurt helped not to dwell on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who changed my outlook profoundly. Looking after her and reassuring her distracted me from my own fear and showed me the importance of focusing on others in a crisis. Over the years, I have frequently pondered if she recalled any details, and how significant it had been for her.
Helen and I have now been friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our skill in managing any situation, provided we have each other. Having her companionship during the accident made it feel as if I was protected from the full horror of the event. The crash also changed my perspective on various difficult situations, giving me perspective – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to get older.
