Trains And Toys
There are rooms in the Manor we tend to gather in. The kitchen, the study, the nursery, the master bedroom. The rest are maintained but rarely used. I checked all the normal spots. No Christine. No Alex. Instead of searching the house, I found Alfred. He had the answer.
He wasn't startled all when I bolted up the stairs. In retrospect, he was probably involved.
The door was standing wide open to the extra bedroom at the end of the east wing. Running slowed to a walk. Walking slowed into baby steps. I turned in front of the opening and there they were.
With the trains.
I gripped the door frame so hard my knuckles turned white. I have no recollection of how long I stood there watching, struggling not to retrieve them. My wife and my two year old son. Playing with the trains. The trains my parents had given me. To Alex, they're toys. Instruments of a healthy childhood.
They stopped being that for me a long time ago.
Chris looks up at me. She knows. I've told her. I've asked her. Please don't disturb this room.
"Come play with us." There's a hint of desperation in her voice. I forget sometimes just how intimidating I can be. Even to her. The woman that I've sworn my life to. The woman who evokes the deepest of emotions. The mother of my blood.
I stand in the door a moment longer before venturing into the freshly aired room. On the floor I drop next to Alex.
"Daddy! Train!" He holds it and waves it in the air. The trains are new and exciting to the eyes of small boy.
I can't take that away from him. He deserves more.
"These," I handle the collection on the ground, "were given to me by your grandfather."
He wasn't startled all when I bolted up the stairs. In retrospect, he was probably involved.
The door was standing wide open to the extra bedroom at the end of the east wing. Running slowed to a walk. Walking slowed into baby steps. I turned in front of the opening and there they were.
With the trains.
I gripped the door frame so hard my knuckles turned white. I have no recollection of how long I stood there watching, struggling not to retrieve them. My wife and my two year old son. Playing with the trains. The trains my parents had given me. To Alex, they're toys. Instruments of a healthy childhood.
They stopped being that for me a long time ago.
Chris looks up at me. She knows. I've told her. I've asked her. Please don't disturb this room.
"Come play with us." There's a hint of desperation in her voice. I forget sometimes just how intimidating I can be. Even to her. The woman that I've sworn my life to. The woman who evokes the deepest of emotions. The mother of my blood.
I stand in the door a moment longer before venturing into the freshly aired room. On the floor I drop next to Alex.
"Daddy! Train!" He holds it and waves it in the air. The trains are new and exciting to the eyes of small boy.
I can't take that away from him. He deserves more.
"These," I handle the collection on the ground, "were given to me by your grandfather."