A friend suggested it as a good place to eat on the way home.
I had passed it hundreds of times,
during family trips to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
I always wanted to eat there,
in that train car.
“Not today” was always the answer.
But as we approached,
I remembered that
you took me there once,
on a rare trip when no one else was in the car.
Did you specifically ask for a table in the train car, just for me,
or were we seated there ‘cause I was a kid?
No matter – that’s where we sat,
all the way at the end – the caboose –
where you ate an ice cream with crème de menthe liquor
and I ate what –
I cannot remember…
…the only memory I have
is me, sitting there with you
and no one else…
…a moment of clarity washes over me now
and maybe,
just maybe,
a moment of clarity washed over you then.