My inner child was jumping up and down with glee. When I was a kid, one of the things I dreamed of being when I grew up was a train engineer. At the time I wasn't yet hip to the limitations imposed by gender. That knowledge came much later, in a variety of ways, though I clearly remember my Psych 101 class imploding when reading Freud's words for the first time: anatomy is destiny.
Oh, sorry, sorry. I digress.
Back in the moment.
It's a beautiful, sunny morning. I'm eager to get to the other end of the park and climb aboard. I have visions in my head of leaning out the window, pretending to pull the cord for that long, lonesome sound of the train whistle. (There isn't actually a whistle on this train...no doubt a good thing when you factor in the volume of kids that clamor all over it on weekends and holidays).
As we come down the path toward the train, there isn't a soul in sight to thwart my plan. It's a quiet Monday morning. I stop for a moment to take this:
On the other side of the train are metal steps to the engine compartment. My heart was beating a bit faster with excitement as I anticipated going up those steps and looking out that window.
But then.
Just as I round the front, a school bus pulls into the parking area and 40 kids spew out, yelling and jumping and shrieking and laughing, heading straight for the train.
I gaze wistfully at those metal steps, look up and catch a small glimpse into the stuff of a girl's childhood fantasy, and walk away.
Maybe only children get a ticket to ride...
I have a friend who when we trek abandoned railroad grades brings a train whistle. The second we go around a turn or cross water, he blows it. He's eleven years my senior, but by the glint of childish glee in his eye when he does this, you'd never know.
ReplyDeleteA man after my own heart, then.
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