Toward the Horizon

#2026-0317

Toward the Horizon

A story from Between Old and New

Early one winter morning, Mr. Sun and his wife, Ms. Sun, arrived at the train station in Hualien with their grandson James.

The station was already lively. Travelers moved in small groups across the platform, carrying suitcases and bags filled with gifts for the coming Lunar New Year. Some people held bright boxes of cakes and fruit; others carried carefully wrapped packages tied with red ribbons.

Children followed their parents closely, their eyes full of excitement about the holiday journey.

Above the entrance hung bright red decorations celebrating the Year of the Horse. One poster showed a strong horse running freely across an open plain, its mane flying in the wind.

James noticed it and smiled.

“Grandpa,” he said, pointing upward, “this year is supposed to be lucky for people who run fast.”

Mr. Sun chuckled softly. “Then perhaps it will also be a good year for trains.”

Soon the three of them boarded the southbound train—the modern and spacious EMU3000 New Tze-Chiang.

Compared with the older trains Mr. Sun had taken many years earlier, the train car felt bright and comfortable. Wide windows stretched along the sides, and the seats were arranged neatly in rows. The air inside was quiet and cool, and the soft lighting gave the cabin a calm, welcoming feeling.

Mr. Sun and Ms. Sun had sometimes taken the swift Puyuma Express on another journey. Yet this train felt newer and more spacious, and its smooth interior made the trip seem even more pleasant.

James settled beside the window. Mr. Sun and Ms. Sun sat beside him.

When the doors closed with a gentle sound, the train began to move—slowly at first, then steadily faster. Soon it left the station behind and glided out of the city.

Before long, the Pacific Ocean appeared outside the window.

Morning sunlight spread across the water, and gentle waves rolled toward the distant shore. The light changed constantly as the train moved, turning the surface of the sea into shifting patterns of silver and blue.

On the other side of the train rose dark green mountains. Their slopes were steep and quiet, and from time to time the railway entered tunnels that pierced the rock like narrow gateways.

Between the mountains and the sea, the railway followed a narrow path, like a long ribbon laid carefully along the edge of the island.

James leaned a little closer to the glass.

“It’s beautiful,” he said quietly.

Mr. Sun nodded.

He had seen this scenery many times before, yet it never seemed to grow old. The railway along Taiwan’s eastern coast always felt like a quiet conversation between sea and mountain—one speaking with endless waves, the other answering with silent peaks.

From time to time the train entered a tunnel. The bright landscape disappeared into darkness, and the windows briefly reflected the passengers inside the car.

Then the train burst out again into sunlight, and the ocean returned beside them.

Watching the waves glide past the window, Mr. Sun suddenly remembered something from long ago.

He had been born in a small mountain village in central Taiwan. In those days the village was surrounded by forests and hills, but there was no sea nearby. As a child, he had heard stories about the ocean, yet he had never seen it with his own eyes.

Nor had he ever ridden a train.

It was not until he finished junior high school and left his hometown for the first time that he finally saw the wide blue sea—and heard the powerful rumble of a train moving along its tracks.

The memory made him smile quietly.

Life, he thought, sometimes begins with very small steps that later become long journeys.

As the train continued southward, James took a small notebook from his backpack.

“Studying already?” Mr. Sun asked gently.

James smiled, a little shyly.

“The high school entrance exams are coming soon.”

Mr. Sun remembered what it felt like to be young and standing before an important turning point. The world ahead seemed wide and uncertain, yet full of promise.

“Just do your best,” he said. “Life has many paths.”

The train ran smoothly along the coast, and occasionally small fishing villages appeared beside the water. White waves broke against rocky shores. Far out at sea, a few boats moved slowly across the shining surface.

By afternoon they arrived in Kaohsiung, where their son and his family welcomed them warmly.

That evening the whole family gathered around the dinner table. Plates of steaming dishes filled the room with comforting aromas.

James and his younger cousin John sat side by side.

“So,” John said with a playful grin, “are you going to study during the holiday too?”

James laughed.

“Maybe a little.”

“A little?” John shook his head, grinning. “That sounds dangerous.”

The two boys laughed together.

Across the table, Ms. Sun watched them quietly. Seeing the boys talking and smiling side by side filled her heart with a gentle happiness.

For Mr. Sun and Ms. Sun, the reunion was simple but precious. Watching the family gathered under one roof, they felt the quiet warmth that only such moments could bring.

The days passed quickly, filled with conversation, laughter, and the peaceful rhythm of the holiday.

Soon the week came to an end, and it was time to return north.

Once again they boarded the train, traveling back along the eastern coast. The journey felt calmer now. The excitement of the New Year celebrations had settled into a peaceful afterglow.

James sat beside the window again, occasionally glancing at his notebook.

John had stayed behind with his parents in Kaohsiung, yet his cheerful voice still seemed to echo in Mr. Sun’s memory.

Outside, the sea stretched endlessly toward the horizon.

As the train moved forward, Mr. Sun thought about the many journeys he had taken during his life. When he was young, trains had been slower and more crowded. Stations had been smaller.

Yet the same railway had quietly carried generations of travelers across the island.

Beside him, James was gradually growing into adulthood, preparing to begin his own path.

The train entered another long tunnel.

For a moment everything outside disappeared. The windows turned into mirrors, reflecting the passengers inside the car—their faces calm, their thoughts traveling in different directions.

Then, suddenly, the train emerged again.

Sunlight spread across the ocean, and the distant horizon shone like a thin silver line where sea and sky met.

James looked up from his notebook and gazed out the window.

Mr. Sun followed his eyes.

The train continued running steadily along the coast, its path stretching forward through sunlight and shadow, through mountains and tunnels, toward places still unseen.

For a long while neither of them spoke.

Yet in that quiet moment, Mr. Sun felt a gentle understanding settle in his heart.

Every person, young or old, travels a path through life. Some journeys are slow, some fast, but each moves forward in its own time.

For a while, families travel together.

Then the younger travelers continue onward toward their own futures.

Outside the window, the Pacific shimmered beneath the afternoon sky.

Far ahead, the horizon glimmered—like a promise of journeys still to come.

And the train carried them forward, steadily and calmly, toward the horizon.

= = =

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