To date, I have written several detailed articles about missteps in life and love. I thought it would be fun to write about a time I actually got it right. This is a story about trains. The most important person in this story is my son, a little boy who loves trains.
His fascination with trains began at an early age. In fact, the very word “train” may have been among the very first words he would speak. His mother and I discovered his love of trains by accident during road trips in which he was strapped in the back car seat. Any sight of train tracks would get him excited. To catch any train at a street crossing was a moment of sheer joy for him.
Very soon, train toys and train children’s books would flood our lives. Every Christmas and birthday, his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends brought him some train-related gift. To know this boy was to know how much he loved his trains.
A couple of years later, another key event solidified this fact in our lives. It was time for our little family to find a new home. We were looking to buy a house in our new city, and we had a full day of visiting several places with a realtor.
The first house for sale that we visited had railroad tracks just beyond a backyard fence. Every day, we were told, a local freight engine would make its run to carry grain and sand to the factories in town. When the little boy saw the view, he burst with joy, chattering nonstop about the train tracks.
For each house we visited later that day, the little boy would run straight to the back window to look at its backyard. And with every new house we saw, his declaration was the, “Nope. No train tracks.” The little boy would turn to leave, even though his mother and I had not yet seen any other parts of that house. The truth is his decision was made. The house with the railroad tracks was where he belonged and his decision was final. This is where we would make our home.
Years passed and so did the local freight train, almost every day as predicted. We grew accustomed to its rumble and the roar of its horn. If the little boy and I were inside the house, we would race to the same back window and watch in celebration as the freight train rolled by. In spring, we might be outside tossing a baseball, and in autumn, we would tackle each other in football. Yet we would drop the ball and run towards the railroad track at the sound of the freight train coming around the bend. At the fence line, we never failed to wave and cheer.
Never did I imagine my life would consist of anything like this. This little boy changed everything.
We watched the train go back and forth dozens of times over many years.
And then, the crux. The turn. The change. Life would turn against itself. Things did not go as originally planned. To be direct, I went through a divorce. The train, to its credit, kept running.
I think such moments occur every so often in a life. You look up and see the approaching wave of turbulent change. You don’t know what will happen. Yet you know that life as you experienced it will never be the same. The triggering event could be divorce. Yet there are other major reckonings, for sure. A multitude of questions arise. Yet these questions usually boil down to this: What should I hold on to? What do I let go of?
I would have loved to remain in the house by the railroad tracks. But by some tiny miracle, my wave of change landed me an apartment, only a few minutes away, yet right next to the same railroad tracks. The change was very hard. Yet the train kept running, never missing a beat. Even though, through the pandemic, the train has not stopped.
The little boy became a young guy and his love for trains developed into something much deeper than a childhood phase. Some new and unexpected moments grew between us.
For example, I discovered that I still tracked the whereabouts of the local freight train. This feature had become a part of my life. Sometimes, I would notice it heading in the direction of the house where my young guy lived. With the right timing, I would call to let him know to get ready for the train. He would appreciate the heads up, and this became a new way for us to share a common moment.
Later in the day, I might call again. He would give me a vividly detailed report about the freight train: the number of engines, its special cargo, or any new features about its movement along the tracks. I began to see that all these years of watching trains, this young guy did not miss anything. His knowledge of this topic far surpassed anything I could achieve.
Then, one-day last summer, he began to get very vocal about wanting to see more trains. He wanted to go to places where the trains were bigger and faster and much more frequent. After resisting for several weeks later, I finally relented in a moment of parental frustration. I dropped my to-do list, got into the car, and – perhaps to prove a point – I simply handed him the GPS and said, “Okay! You win. Where to?”
I thought this would take an hour or two. Seven hours later, we had crisscrossed over one hundred miles of highways and byways of West Virginia, Virginia, and Maryland, following train tracks and seeing many more trains. It turned out he had been watching train videos for several years and knew the exact names of popular places to find them. He was just waiting for the opportunity to lead me fully into his world.
We concluded the day on the side of a gravel mountain road in the middle of nowhere. I had zero cell phone coverage and the temperature was almost exactly 100 degrees. A huge black beautiful Freightliner with over one hundred cars came rolling around a mountain bend. Our thrill was indescribable. There were pictures, videos, and high-fives. The conductor waved to us and saluted us with the train horn. And that was it. My son and I had a new bonding tradition.
I wondered if we would have taken it this far had our lives not changed. I also wonder how life would have been different had life not been so turbulent. Yet I never would have guessed so incredibly simple would bring that much happiness.
So I wanted to put this in writing. I have the young man’s approval to tell the story. The good parts will likely be retold many times over the course of both our lives.
The decision I got right was to take this little boy seriously. I was right to be intentional in spending time with him doing things that he enjoyed, even if, at first I did not understand what it meant to me.
Our days since then have consisted of more trains than I can count. We have covered a few hundred miles and several train museums. We have compiled dozens of photos and videos – the majority of which are his.
I wonder often his perspective through the years. If every train he sees is like seeing a train for the first time. For him, this never gets old. I guess that is also the wonder of being a parent. To be reminded that with everything going on in the world, it is still possible to see life like this.
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Talk to you soon.
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Photo credit: Shutterstock