Train Station Dreams

We were standing on a platform, waiting for the train. For some reason I didn’t liked traveling, especially with train. To me, the big, red locomotive looked like a scary monster that sleeps during a day under the bed, but at night, he awakes and feeds on kids’ dreams.

But you told me that there was nothing I should be afraid of. It was like riding in a car. Only this car had more cars hooked at the back of it. And I believed you. Why shouldn’t I? You’re my mother, I believe every word you say.

You might don’t know this, but I know when something’s not right. I can tell by the way your smile never reaches your eyes, or how you can’t look me in the eyes.

Kinda like how you look now. Smiling, trying to assure me that everything’s gonna be okay. Or how you are holding my hand, squeezing, like you are afraid that I might leave you. Or how your eyes changes their color when you think of him.

The big monster was screaming, and slowing down until his legs couldn’t carry him anymore. I was scared. But you told me that there are no such things as monsters in real life.

I really wanted to believe that, but somehow I couldn’t. I was afraid.

As we walked inside, I kept looking at people faces, trying to see if they were scared.

You squeezed my hand, smiling for real. “Don’t worry baby, nobody’s gonna hurt you. I’m here with you,” you said. The sound of your voice took my fear away from me.

You are here with me.

“Mommy where are we going?” I looked at you, but again saw that look.

The look you have whenever you are thinking about him.

“We are going to Chicago.”

Chicago. It’s where he is.

My father.

I didn’t knew him, only from your stories. You told me he was good, kind, that he loved you so much. But if he loved you, why did he left? Maybe it was me. Maybe I was too much.

“Mommy?” I didn’t wanted to ask you this, but I needed to know. You looked at me, love shoving in your smile. “Did Daddy left because of me?” Your smile faded away and tears started falling down your face.

“No baby, why would you think that?” you said placing me in your lap and wrapping your hands around me.

“Well you said that he loved you, but then he left.”

You sighed and looked at me. It was hard for you, because you told me how much I remind you of him.

“No. Your Daddy loved… love you very much. In fact, he even called me to ask if you could spend Christmas with him.” Your words sounded so convincing, but the tears were still falling from your eyes.

I hate seeing you cry. Because if you cry, I cry too.

And I don’t like crying. My eyes hurts, my head hurts, my throat hurts because of crying.

I reached and wiped the tears.

“Don’t cry,” I whispered. You smiled and just hugged me tighter.

The train was moving fast. I was fascinated how everything was becoming one line, but when I looked further, I saw how trees and clouds were standing still. There were birds flying on the sky. It seemed to me that they were racing with us. But their wings were too small, and the train was too big and faster.

I looked back at you. You were looking at your hands, chewing on your lip, while your fingers were nervously taping on your knees. But even though I knew that it must have been hard for you, every move you make is like music, the sound of your voice, the light taping of your fingers against your jeans, the sounds coming from the locomotive. Everything sounded like a perfect melody.

I didn’t know why, but I was happy. I was finally going to meet my father. He loved me; he wanted to spend the Christmas with you and me. Like a family. Like it was supposed to be.

I loved our Christmas. Just the two of us, a small tree and tons of presents. You said that the best Christmases you ever had was with me.

“Baby, we’re here,” you were already standing when I looked at you.

I was afraid again. Will he like me? How will our Christmas be? Why wouldn’t you let me wear that pink dress with bow in front?

We walked out where there were so many people walking around. I tried counting them, but they were moving too fast so I gave up. I felt your hand squeezing mine very hard and I looked up to you. You were looking somewhere far away in the crowd. How could you see anybody, when they were running in every direction they could?

“You ready?” you asked looking down at me. I nodded my head, and we started walking towards the big red letter that said “EXIT”.

I wanted to go back to the train. I wanted to go back home. But I wanted to meet him too.

I couldn’t look past people to see where were we going. Those letters were the only guidance I had to know that we were going out of here. I found more fun looking at people’s shoes. They were so colorful, so many different shapes.

We walked past the people with funny shoes, past the big glass doors.

Everything was different, and every little thing was drawing attention.

We stopped in front of the blue car. There stood a man, his back was on the car window and his arms were crossed. He looked like he was waiting for someone.

When he saw me, he smiled and bent a little, putting his arms on his knees.

“And you must be Tallulah. Hi, I’m Jon,” he said outstretching his hand. I looked at you, waiting for your approval. You nodded your head, giving me the light smile.

I looked back at the man and his hand, clutching my Michelangelo doll tighter.

“I see you like Ninja Turtles,” he pointed at my Michelangelo.

“Yes,” I said. I couldn’t say anything else.

This man, my father was standing in front of me.

“It’s so good to see you again Natalie,” he told you.

“You too, Jon.”

Was this going to be it? Are we gonna be a family? A family like I saw on TV?

“Come on, there are some people who want to meet you,” he told me.

“Are you my Daddy?” I asked. You stopped. So did him. He looked at you before kneeling down and taking my hand from yours.

I got scared but I couldn’t move.

“I’m your Daddy Tallulah,” he was smiling. He was my father.

I smiled. I had a complete family now. I was happy and you were happy.

And I didn’t want to go back to the train anymore. I finally found my place.

My Christmas couldn’t be better.

I just hope you bought me that Peter Pan doll I asked you to.