[Featured on The Joyful Life Magazine]
We’re bumping over the railroad tracks, heading to his soccer game, when my almost 11-year-old recognizes the spot. I’m distracted, focused on getting to the right field on time, when he exclaims, “Mom, that’s where you took me on the train!” I look to my left and see the beautiful bridge, rusted just enough to be charming but not creepy, and am snapped back to that special moment. It was one of our favorite mom and son dates.
A Trip Down Memory Lane
Five years earlier, at this spot, we were sitting on bales of hay on the open-air car of this storybook train. The black engine, with its charming red painted trim, whistled our arrival at the bridge, as we clacked slowly through sunlit foliage. The trees waved their oranges and yellows at us, and my heart soaked in the wonder I saw on his face. The rhythm and hum of the train, the fresh air, the magical bridge, the golden leaves reaching for our shoulders—it was a moment we’re both transported back to this very minute.
As I drive, he’s looking at the tracks and the bridge and back to me, waiting to see the recognition on my face. I feel it, too.
I didn’t know until that day, on the way to soccer, that our time on that train all those years ago would connect our hearts this way. When we began those dates, we didn’t know how those hours would tuck themselves into our hearts, laid and layered like stones in a foundation. Yet, five years after our mom and son train date, here was another connection, born from that open-air car and that clackety bridge.
Read the full post at The Joyful Life.
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