I am sitting in an elegantly appointed club car on an antique train, rocking gently around the Puget Sound at the foot of the Cascade mountains. The sun is setting over the water. It has been 3 years since I’ve been able to afford to leave Chicago to travel, and am presently in the midst of an economy-is-the-mother-of-luxury vacation, in which I am determinedly visiting as many of my west-coast relatives as I can while I can afford to be out here near them. This means I get to see eyes and touch hands with my loves in Washington, Northern and Southern Oregon, the California Bay Area and Los Angeles, and Tucson, Arizona. And the many stops mean that I am taking the train, which in turn means that I get to experience the peace and exhilaration of taking the time it takes to move from one place to another, and to see the distance in between.