Yesterday, I took my just-turned-4-year-old grandson Alexander to the train station in downtown Providence to pick up his Mommy, Audrey. She was returning from a trip to New York City.
Alex and I were a bit early. The train was a bit late. And these turns of events gave us time to do a little exploring. We headed outside the station and Alex, who really is Indiana Jones, asked if he could climb up on the 3-4′ cement walls that enclose the bushes and flowers.
“Sure,” I found myself saying. I didn’t need to help him climb up the wall. Alex is a natural climber. Well, he is Indiana Jones. But I told him that he did have to hold my hand while he was up there.
He did.
Then he asked if he could jump down from up there.
“Um,” I thought. Then I found myself saying, “Sure. If you hold my hand when you jump.”
He did.
We rode the escalator. 3 times. But only if he held my hand.
He did.
Then we headed to the train platform. There were a few people down there, all waiting for whatever journey they were taking on that Fall afternoon. But my journey on that day was with Alex. We held hands and walked the entire platform, all the way until we could see the sunny daylight around the bend. We listened to everything… the residual rainfall gushing down the drainpipes from the storm the night before. The wind whipping its magic through the tunnel . A soda can making its music as it danced on the giant iron grate above our heads. The footsteps of the people getting ready for their journeys. We held hands.
And then the beautiful sounds of the train bringing his Mommy home. We listened to the announcement of the train’s arrival. We listened to the giant wheels braking its momentum. We listened to the rushhhhh of wind as the train brought Mommy into the station. We heard the swish of the doors and the sounds of people. And we held hands.
Then we heard the most wonderful sound of all. Mommy’s voice.
I let go of Alex’s hand and he ran into his Mommy’s arms.
It was one of the best days of my life.
Another loving story beautifully rendered.
Sharon, my most HATED sound in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD is WIND!!! When you say the wind “whipping it’s magic through the tunnel, it made me stop to rethink it.
I doubt I’ll change my mind….Dave and Paul are convinced I have some deeply buried childhood trauma that the mere sound of the wind strikes terror to my core, as though Armegeddon is just around the corner, but I will at least THINK about the wind being a positive force…….
P.S. I just figured out your own personal secret to happiness: EVERY day is the best day of your life!
What a great way to spend your second day after turning 57. You are a person who makes every day count and that’s what I love about you Sharon. Alexander will never forget his trip with Grandma at the train station.
So I go to an outdoor prayer service this afternoon at LSA at the sight of a student-built labyrinth modeled on one from the childhood parish of out founder, and what is one of the foci but wind? And as the prayer leader is leading a guided meditation, directing us to breathe in deeply, breathe out slowly, a definite but subtle and gentle WIND, not a breeze, is blowing across my face in the sunshine dappled through the trees in an area between wetlands on the property. On this sunny day with blue sky and soft gentle clouds, inexplicably, a rainbow appears above us, slightly to the right of the cloud covered sun.
And I think to myself, “Okay, yes, the wind can be fierce, but it can also be soft and gentle and loving.”
You, my dear, and nature are in league to get me through my fear/hatred of wind.
Nice job, Sharon.
Thanks.
Yes, it was a nice afternoon! The best for me was when he wanted to hold BOTH our hands. You could tell me wanted to make us both feel special.
xo
Audrey
I could just see you both in my head. You weave such wonderful stories. I can see why it was such a special day.
I love the way you write. I get the best visuals. It sounds like you had a wonderful afternoon
Oh, I love the way you tell a story. So beautiful.