I don’t remember who often noticed the train first: you, little three-year-old boy, or me, 35 years old and making the most of what we had. Every time it appeared in the distance — initially as a blur at the vanishing point of the LRT or MRT railway — we’d exclaim together, “Train!”
(I think I always saw the train first, given my height advantage. And I always kept you away from the edge of the boarding platform.)
Those train rides…
One time you were so happy! You kept smiling on your seat; your delighted eyes on me, squeezing my hand as I stood watching over you (as oftentimes the trains were full). I kept squeezing back, and the world passed us by.
I’ll always remember you, Kaleb, and will always carry you in my heart everywhere I go…
Sorry I decided not to see you anymore. Hopefully it’s for the better, as you deserve better.
Nay, you deserve the best!
Someday, when you’re grown up, you’ll be riding trains…alone,
and perhaps in search of me.
If I’m still alive by that time, you’ll find me…
You’ll find me.