A Moment That Altered My Perspective: Our Train Derailed – and subsequently There Was a Little Girl Sobbing.

The moment I knew my life was in danger occurred in my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to reunite with an old university friend who had just relocated there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and enjoying the thought of the upcoming weekend of fun, we talked incessantly as we journeyed by train from York.

We put our suitcases – full of essentials such as wine bottles and my brand-new black clogs – on the overhead rack and made ourselves comfortable in a comfortable double seat. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. This was followed by a second, which could not be dismissed. Someone cried out as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like a delayed sequence. In an instant, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. Looking down, vision blocked, I anticipated the carriage to flip and explode, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our families and friends receiving the notification. Subsequently, there was the young girl weeping.

“It's going to be fine,” I whispered, my tone was hoarse. “It's finished now,” I whispered, more to myself than her.

She was about seven or eight years old, and looked like she had no guardian. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; this was my opportunity to be useful. I went to where she was standing and put my arm around her. “Don’t look round,” Helen called out, too late. I caught sight of a man with blood all over his face. A large metallic item had penetrated the window behind us. Afterward, we discovered a runaway digger had rolled down the hill and smashed into our carriage, leading to the derailment.

Our car was lodged with its leading section elevated. Next was the sound of sirens and a man nearby requested that I to pass the little girl to him so he could pass her through the window, as kids were being rescued to waiting firefighters. Shortly after, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and climbing down a ladder onto the railway line.

Back on terra firma – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. I searched for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, as it transpired had been in the lavatory at the time of the accident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – though luckily our wine stayed unbroken. Following a 30-minute delay, we proceeded in a free cab to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the woman who had damaged the suitcase. Our host was there, ashen-faced. She had heard there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and prepared some tea for her while she waited for news.

With the invincibility of youth, we put the train crash to one side and carried on with our night out, which included a unforgettable performance 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 sustained only bruises and aches and pains from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to approach Leeds station, which had been the crucial element in preventing major harm. The fact that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to dwell on the “what ifs” but that young girl who left a lasting impact on me. Taking care of her and calming her down shifted my focus outward and demonstrated the worth of focusing on others in a crisis. In the decades since, I have frequently pondered if she had any memory of the event, and how big a deal it had been for her.

Helen and I have now been friends for over 30 years and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle whatever comes, provided we have each other. Having her companionship during the accident made it feel as if I was protected from the worst of the situation. The crash also changed my perspective on other types of crises, offering me a new viewpoint – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is invariably an honor to get older.