An Event That Changed My Perspective: Our Train Crashed – and afterward There Was a Young Girl Sobbing.

T it dawned on me I was about to die came a couple of years into my 20s, when life was really just starting out. 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 enjoying the thought of the social gathering to come, we chatted nonstop as we journeyed by train from York.

We stashed our bags – full of essentials such as our favorite wines and my new pair of black clogs – on the overhead rack and settled down in a comfortable double seat. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. A woman screamed as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like slow motion. Suddenly, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. With my head lowered, vision blocked, I waited for the carriage to flip and explode, similar to cinematic scenes. My thoughts turned to our relatives and companions hearing the tragic update. Then I heard the young girl weeping.

“It's going to be fine,” I murmured, my tone was hoarse. “It’s all over,” I whispered, mostly for my own benefit.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and looked like she had no guardian. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; here was my chance to help. I went to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t look round,” Helen shouted, the warning came after the fact. I saw a man with his face covered in blood. A large metallic item had crashed through the window behind us. Afterward, we learned a runaway digger had tumbled down the embankment and collided with the train, making the train leave the tracks.

Our car was lodged with its nose pointing upward. Then came the noise of sirens and a man nearby instructed me to give the girl to him so he could pass her through the window, where children were being evacuated to waiting firefighters. Shortly after, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and climbing down a ladder onto the railway line.

Once back on solid ground – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. My eyes scanned for the little girl and watched her mother gather her up, we later learned had been in the lavatory during the incident. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. One of the passengers collapsed on Helen’s case, making it split apart – but, by good fortune our wine stayed unbroken. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we made our way in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our university friend greeted us, pale with worry. She knew there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an 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 involved a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, even though several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I got away with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to enter Leeds station, which had been the crucial element in avoiding serious injury. Given that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to dwell on the “what ifs” but that young girl who left a lasting impact on me. Looking after her and soothing her helped take my mind off myself and demonstrated the importance of directing attention externally in a crisis. As time passed, I have repeatedly asked myself if she had any memory of the event, and how big a deal it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for thirty-plus years and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle any situation, as long as we're side by side. Being with her that day made it feel as if I was shielded against the worst of the situation. The crash also changed my method of handling other types of crises, offering me a new viewpoint – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to get older.