Watching the train go by

Yesterday as I was driving home, I had to make a rare stop at a railroad crossing while a train passed. Watching the carriages go by, the whistle of the engine, the rumbling of the train tracks, it reminded me of when I was a kid.

I loved to watch trains when I was little. Whenever I visited my grandparents in Malaysia, I would always bug my granddad to bring me to the nearby railway tracks and just sit on top of our car, waiting for a train to pass. My granddad would stand by me, holding my hand, smiling together with me. When a train did come, I would watch, absorbed by the quick motion of its passing. And I would always wave, somehow hoping that I would catch someone waving back to me.

Watching the trains go by yesterday, I wished my granddad could be next to me, holding my hands once again. Perhaps then I would start waving and maybe, just maybe, someone would wave back.