An Incident That Transformed My Life: My Train Derailed – and subsequently I Overheard a Little Girl Weeping.

That instant it dawned on me the end was near came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My best friend, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to reunite with a friend from college who had recently moved there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and reveling in the anticipation of the party weekend ahead, we conversed constantly as we made our way by train from York.

We placed our luggage – packed with necessities such as our favorite wines and my brand-new black clogs – in the storage compartment and settled down in a cosy two-seater. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. Someone cried out as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like slow motion. In an instant, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Looking down, eyes screwed shut, I waited for the carriage to flip and explode, like in the movies. I recall pondering our loved ones getting the news. Subsequently, there was the little girl crying.

“It's going to be fine,” I said softly, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I murmured, mostly for my own benefit.

She appeared to be seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; now I could do something meaningful. I moved to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don’t look round,” Helen shouted, the warning came after the fact. I saw a man with blood all over his face. A large metallic item had crashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we discovered a uncontrolled excavator had tumbled down the embankment and into the side of the train, making the train leave the tracks.

Our compartment was trapped with its nose pointing upward. Following that came of sirens and another traveler requested that I to pass the little girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, as kids were being rescued to fire crews on standby. A few minutes later, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and climbing down a ladder down to the rails.

Standing on firm land again – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. My eyes scanned for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been using the restroom when the crash occurred. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. A fellow passenger collapsed on Helen’s case, making it split apart – however, fortunately our wine was unharmed. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we proceeded in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the woman who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, 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 put the train crash to one side and proceeded with the social outing, which featured a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, despite the fact that several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I got away with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the violent forward motion in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to approach Leeds station, which had been the key factor in averting grave physical damage. Since nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to focus on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who left a lasting impact on me. Taking care of her and reassuring her distracted me from my own fear and demonstrated the worth of directing attention externally in a crisis. In the decades since, I have repeatedly asked myself if she had any memory of the event, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for thirty-plus years and That location's name now symbolizes for our skill in managing any situation, so long as we are together. Being with her that day gave me the impression I was shielded against the worst of the situation. The accident additionally altered my method of handling other types of crises, giving me perspective – and reminding me that, however bad things seem, it is invariably an honor to age.