Once upon a time, Muffin hadn’t been born yet. I hadn’t met Josh yet. I wasn’t even teaching yet. I was simply Jane Doe, college student…who commuted from her childhood home to the university campus daily for classes (It was only about half an hour away). I was one of those people who believes in being super early. I cannot stand being late to things. For the longest time, I was so crowd phobic that I couldn’t bear for people to look at me. (Note: During this part of my life, I had this great idea that I could be invisible if I showed up to classes before anyone else.)
Yes, I make my living standing in front and around a classroom of students all day communicating face to face and in front of the classroom. But I wasn’t always this person.
Anyway (now that we’ve gone down that rabbit hole), I was on my way to class one day…and was stopped for forty-five minutes by a train first moving slowly on the tracks, then stopping, then backing up, then stopping, then moving forward a bit and stopping…stopping…stopping. And made myself late for a Spanish class. I’m sure I’m not the only one that has cursed a train for blocking traffic, right?
For those of you who don’t know Muffin…and therefore aren’t howling in laughter about what I’m about to say…sometimes things happen that are just…weird. After years of (at best) inwardly growling at the site of a train on the tracks when I’m in a hurry (and at worst using my best road rage language), I give birth to a son obsessed with trains. Uhb-ssesssed. Meaning a car ride is not simply a car ride, oh no! A car ride is an experience in expectation of finding a train…and so much better if you are captive for the experience of it being on the track in front of you. With squeals of glee and mirth as each successive car lumbers slllllooooowwwwly past. And the best is if they stop for awhile so that Muffin can give his verbal dissertation on the train car before us.
Oddly enough, after three years of train obsession, I don’t even flinch anymore at the sight of trains on the tracks.
I even find myself in childlike wonderment greedily observing the details of each passing car to later relay to Muffin if he isn’t in the car…or sharing in the train discussion with him.
And then…there is the great wavy guy hunt. Thank you automotive places, whether you be a place that washes cars, changes the oil in cars, sells cars, or supplies parts for cars. You have provided me the best
bribe incentive for me to get Muffin to do things such as getting in the car in a timely manner. One of the car lots around here even has four or five of them…in different colors. And we have to wave at each…and…every…one.
And I’ve found myself doing so even when Muffin is not in the car.
Is this unusual?