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T I realized the end was near came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My closest companion, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to catch up with a friend from college who had recently moved there for work. Delighted to be together, and reveling in the anticipation of the social gathering to come, we conversed constantly as we journeyed by train from York.

We stashed our bags – full of essentials such as wine bottles and the clogs I had just bought – in the storage compartment and settled down in a comfortable double seat. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. Then came another, which could not be dismissed. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like a delayed sequence. Suddenly, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. With my head lowered, vision blocked, I waited for the carriage to flip and explode, like in the movies. I recall pondering our families and friends receiving the notification. That's when the sound of the child sobbing.

“Everything is okay,” I murmured, my voice sounding croaky. “It's finished now,” I stated, primarily to calm my own nerves.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and looked like she had no guardian. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; now I could do something meaningful. I went to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen shouted, but it was already too late. I saw a man with blood all over his face. A large metallic item had penetrated the window behind us. Afterward, we learned a driverless construction vehicle had descended the slope and smashed into our carriage, leading to the derailment.

Our compartment was trapped with its leading section elevated. Next was the sound of sirens and another traveler asked me to hand the child over 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 on to the track.

Back on terra firma – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I searched for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, who it turned out had been using the restroom when the crash occurred. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers collapsed on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine remained intact. Following a 30-minute delay, we traveled in a provided car to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our university friend greeted us, pale with worry. She was aware there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and prepared some tea for her 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 involved a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, although several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I escaped with bruises and aches and pains from the violent forward motion in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to come into Leeds station, which had been the key factor in preventing major harm. The fact that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to dwell on the “what ifs” but that young girl who made a permanent impression. Taking care of her and soothing her shifted my focus outward and taught me the importance of focusing on others in a crisis. Over the years, I have often wondered if she remembered anything about it, and what a major event it had been for her.

Helen and I have now been friends for more than three decades 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 created the sensation that I was insulated from the most terrifying aspects. The accident additionally altered my perspective on various difficult situations, providing me with insight – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to age.