There he stood. Alone. So tall, bigger than life, at the side of the tracks. I turned to my sister, “Will he be OK?”
“Yes. He’ll be fine”, she said. “Now, sit across from me, you know I hate to ride backwards. It makes me sick.”
“What does he do when we leave?”
“He goes back to his apartment. He’ll go to work tomorrow. He’ll probably get drunk tonight (these words weren’t spoken, but we both thought them) Don’t worry.”
But, I did. Worry. I knew that apartment. It was small – just one room that doubled as a kitchen, bedroom and living room. Too small for us to stay in when we visited. That’s why we went to the hotel on Lake Shore Drive. How could my dad live in that apartment? It just seemed too small for such a big man.
What about the drinking. I worried.
“Mom is home waiting for us. She looks forward to us coming home after these weekends.” I knew my sister had that right..
The rest of the ride home I began worrying about my mom. What did she do while we were gone, I wondered. The train pulled into the station and there she was waiting for us. Looking so small next to the huge trains. Happy we were home.