I Miss You on the Train
I boarded Metro North for the first time in over a year, heading to Westchester for a wake. My husband and I became Brooklyn car owners in 2021 so our trips to Westchester to visit my Mom are now on the road and not on the rails. Blue Lightning, which is what we call our car, is not the only reason my Metro North ridership is down. Phil Hoffman, my father and train companion, is gone.
When I moved to Manhattan, I always took Metro North to get home to White Plains. I would coordinate a time with my Dad and we would meet in the back car. He would help me put my bag on the upper racks since I was often lugging holiday gifts or apartment goods I no longer wanted that Phil would inevitably find a use for. And we would talk for the 10 minutes before the train left through the 43 minute ride to Harrison. We rarely talked on the phone unless it was transactional, like me asking my Dad to review my apartment lease or give me his credit card for the wedding flowers. Our interactions typically happened over email or in person, so this 1-on-1 train time was very precious.
One Christmas season, we arrived home while my Mom was still at work. Phil grabbed a salami and a block of provolone from the fridge. I grabbed a knife and a cutting board while he opened 2 Beck’s Light beers. He used to sing the praises of Beck’s Light because he loved its 68 calorie count, relatively low for a beer. I didn’t point out that the beer was only 3.8% ABV. He liked it, which was all that mattered. Beck’s released a non-alcoholic beer which I drink now just to remember my shared beers with Phil. Neither of us grabbed a kitchen counter stool, opting to stand around the cutting board, slicing piece after piece of salami and provolone.
One night of meat and cheese may not seem like something I would even remember years later. However, I was in my early 20s and that commute, that cheese, that beer, symbolized our shared experience as adults. Your parents will always be your parents, giving you advice, worrying about your finances and commenting on your lack of curtains. But sometimes, you share moments where you only feel like peers, and those moments stand out.
Not every train ride culminated in a meat and cheese platter. Sometimes, I arrived home to tell my Mom everything I had already told my Dad on the train. Other times, we commuted in the morning and both slept for most of the ride. But it was still still special to have that train time with him.
I miss getting his emails saying he was swamped at work and would meet me for the 6:52PM train home. I miss getting a follow-up later that day saying he worked it out and could now leave at 5:21PM. I miss giggling with him as we told stories because I never rolled my eyes at his Dad jokes when we were alone. I miss this thing that I can’t get back in any way shape or form now that he is gone.
On your next train ride with a friend or family member, talk to each other. Look at the scenery. Enjoy the ride.
