…and one short walk
After we finished dinner and cleaned up, I gave the boy a bath and helped him get to bed. He wanted me to stay but I told him I couldn’t.
I understand how hard it is for a parent to tell a child no for something they both want.
Well, now I do, I mean. It’s something I don’t think I ever fully appreciated before.
Her mom drove me to the train station to head home. We talked in the car.
Earlier that night, I imitated Alison’s voice and some of her mannerisms and her mom laughed because I got it right. That’s a nice memory for me to have. Alison woulda laughed too.
We all miss her terribly.
At the train station, there were three girls trying to figure out how to get to the other side of the tracks because the train was arriving in five minutes. I suddenly realized that I didn’t know where my phone was.
After four minutes of frantic searching, I had my mother-in-law call it and found I had dropped it when I stepped out of the car. We could hear the train approaching.
Her: Grab it and go, I’ll stay in case you miss it.
Me: OK, thanks!
I ran breathlessly to the other side of the train tracks where the three girls from earlier looked at me quizzically.
They must’ve wondered why I waited until the very last minute to get there.
The first leg of the trip was quiet, as my trips go. A guy was trying to pick up a girlie but otherwise, the train was empty. It’s always empty when I travel these days.
But Mouse kept me company via messages, though.
I was still thinking of Alison and everything when I got out at Newark Penn Station to transfer to the other train when I noticed two signs.
The first said that the train to Penn Station was cancelled; the next one was in 22 minutes.
The second sign said that there was a PATH train leaving in two minutes. Made a snap judgement, took out my Metrocard, and caught the PATH train just as the doors were closing.
I took that to 33rd Street and transferred to the N train.
Got off that and transferred to the red line. Then I walked to my pad.
One car ride, five trains, and one short walk later I was home.
“Harold. I’m back,” I said.
He didn’t answer me. He never does.
Just need to make it past New Year’s and I’m good for five months.