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I’ve seen my share of sunrises. More sunsets than sunrises, but still more of the latter than the average person.

Today, however, was the first time I saw the sunrise while on a CTA train. Usually I’m either on the train before the sun has risen enough to be seen over building tops or still asleep in my bed. The blazing sun shone into my eyes, blinding me as I tried to figure out whether the Blue or the Pink Line would provide the fastest route to my destination today.

It’s a game of hide and go seek with the sunny fireball. It peeks at me from behind skyscrapers and raggedy buildings. I suppose then it’s a game of peek-a-boo instead. Certainly, I’m taking refuge in the train car as it snakes through the tracks. Refuge not only from its killer glare but also from the 90° + temperatures emitting from it at 6 a.m. But then there are times when I miss the sun and search for it in between the tall brick structures in front of me. I see its reflections in the thousands of mirrors made up of glass skyscrapers, but the real thing eludes me time after time.

It’s quite a difference experience witnessing the rays of life ascend toward the heavens while sitting on a CTA train versus on sandy shores. Instead of the soothing sound of crashing waves and the joyous whispers of lovers passing by, the train offers the rhythmic  staccato of the cars rolling along the tracks and that standardized, male voice announcing every stop.

The Pink Line won over the Blue, perhaps because I have never been on the Pink before and just wanted to ride it. But this line goes west, thus affording me even fewer glimpses of the sun.

Then I see it. There it is, a golden gem along the drab, grey horizon. My mostly faithful friend has risen to its morning post, beaming at me as I race away. Thank you for letting me witness your morning commute. My commute is coming to an end as well, and here begins my journey today.