An Event That Changed Me: Our Train Derailed – and then There Was a Little Girl Crying.

That instant I knew I was about to die came a couple of years into my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My closest companion, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to catch up with a friend from college who had just relocated there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and basking in the prospect of the upcoming weekend of fun, we chatted nonstop as we traveled by train from York.

We placed our luggage – packed with necessities such as our favorite wines and my new pair of black clogs – above our heads and got seated in a comfortable double seat. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a dreamlike pace. In an instant, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. With my head lowered, vision blocked, I expected the carriage to overturn and ignite, like in the movies. I remember thinking our loved ones getting the news. That's when the sound of the young girl weeping.

“You’re all right,” I whispered, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I murmured, primarily to calm my own nerves.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; this was my opportunity to be useful. I made my way to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Avoid looking back,” Helen called out, the warning came after the fact. I caught sight of a man whose face was bloody. An enormous piece of metal had smashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we found out a driverless construction vehicle had descended the slope and smashed into our carriage, causing us to derail.

Our car was lodged with its nose pointing upward. Next was the sound of sirens and another traveler instructed me to pass the little girl to him so he could help her out the window, while young passengers were extracted to waiting firefighters. A few minutes later, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and scaling a ladder down onto the railway line.

Standing on firm land again – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. I looked for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, as it transpired had been in the toilet at the time of the accident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. A fellow passenger collapsed on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – however, fortunately our wine remained intact. After a half-hour wait, we traveled in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the lady who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, visibly shaken. She knew there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and made her a cup of tea while she hoped for information.

Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we put the train crash to one side and continued with our evening plans, which included a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, despite the fact that several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I got away with bruises and general soreness from the violent forward motion in the carriage. The train had been slowing to enter Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in preventing major harm. The fact that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to obsess over the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who made a permanent impression. Taking care of her and soothing her helped take my mind off myself and taught me the worth of focusing on others in a crisis. In the decades since, I have repeatedly asked myself if she recalled any details, and how big a deal it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle with anything, so long as we are together. Having her companionship during the accident created the sensation that I was protected from the most terrifying aspects. The accident additionally altered the way I approach various difficult situations, providing me with insight – and reminding me that, however bad things seem, it remains a gift to grow older.