Traveling by C-Train

My kindergarten teacher is always
saying, "Comb your hair, Alice"

Even though I live next door to them, I don’t have Richard and Miranda’s children often.

I can see why this is a good idea on their part.

If I am babysitting them in the evenings, I am the first one asleep, which is not the way that is supposed to go.

I am not that worried about watching children that way, since I recognize the phenomena as one that helped me raise my own children.

Sometimes sleeping is better than seeing what they are doing.

But back to Monday?

I was watching Betty and Alice, walking down Capital Hill Crescent and we were so close to the C-Train that it seemed a shame not to push our boundaries from the distance we can walk, to the distance we can ride.

... one foot up because I have clicked the picture
when she was swinging around this pole ...

I have a yearly bus pass.

I never stop to wonder if it is really worth the cost.

That is because it is worth it to me – just pay that $130 and then be free to travel whenever and wherever I wish.

I do imagine that I will set aside a few days for travel around Calgary, acting like a tourist.

... "I am afraid of the doors, Grandmother" ...

When I do there is always an adventure, like the time I took the 67th Street line, went right to the transit barns and found it was a day when all of Calgary could tour the facility.

But on Tuesday, I was just taking two little girls on a trip and letting them make choices.

“Shall we go south or north?”

... within arm's reach of a pole ...

They didn’t care.

I did.

We took the line that was coming first. No use standing on a platform and waiting for the train that wouldn’t come for 13 minutes. I thought I could also teach C-train etiquette, but that just wasn’t going to happen.

It was mid afternoon.

There was no one else in our car.

....Alice close to two poles, stops for one pose ...

I let both girls hang onto the centre pole as the train went through the tunnel past the Brentwood stop.

The wind whooshed through the car, blew really, both of them facing it and their hair flying behind them in the wind.

I pulled out my camera but had missed the moment.

Then Betty remember that she is afraid inside of any unit where the doors open and shut. That is because she was left behind on an elevator at IKEA.

The elevator only goes 2 floors – up to the second and then back down to the first.

Miranda stepped off the elevator, Alice behind her, and she thought Betty was following, but no – this was a moment when Betty stalled.

Just that split second when a child sometimes lingers a little too long, so back down to the first floor Betty went.

Miranda knew instantly that she was missing one child. A high pitched scream from inside an elevator tells all.

"I can stand when the train is moving."

The elevator moves slowly, not one of these from “floor 2 to floor 27 in 5 seconds” elevators, like some of the ones in the buildings at the centre core of the city.

The IKEA elevator is a freight elevator and lumbers along – and so it did, Betty’s scream high-pitched, shrill scream piercing the air.

Miranda grabbed Alice’s hand and they ran down the long flight of stairs fast enough to greet Betty as the elevator doors opened.

But that period of time was memorable for Betty.

There is no way a person could loose her now. She sat by me in the train and at each stop as the doors opened and closed she held on tighter, her body trembling and she would said, “I am scared.”

Alice is a different kind of soul.

She always has her hand on the monkey bars at school and on the geodome poles in the backyard at home.

I hurt inside when I have to apply a band-aid to the broken blister in the palm of her hand because she has come to me with its pain.

I want to chastise her. “No more hanging from the bars until these blisters of healed”, but there is no way that is going to happen.

Hanging from a bar is like breathing for her.

Alice had quickly figured out how to hang onto the centre poles, the poles of the side panels in the train, and the back bar of the seats, swinging faster and faster between them in rhythm with the jostling of the train that took up speed between each stop.

She had tried to reach for the hanging handles but she is just a bit shy of being able to reach them, thank goodness.

It was the perfect day.

Not another person in our car which consists of three parts for those who don’t ride the light rail transit (LRT): those who are sitting going forward, those of us who like the side benches, and those who ride backwards. These are the less desirable seats and are almost always empty except at rush hour. Since I had my cell phone out, I thought that perhaps I should phone Miranda and tell her that our walk was now extended.

I spend the whole day applying sunscreen to
that little nose which is going to burn and freckle this summer.

I didn’t think she would be able to hear anything over the noise of the train, so I just held the phone in my hand.

It wasn’t long before the phone rang. Richard was on the line.

“Busted”, I thought. ”How did he know I had gone away further than usual with the kids.”

Richard didn’t know where I was. He was asking if there would be any chance for childcare for the next two days. “Are you kidding? I love getting my hands on those kids.”

Next adventure in my mind? Dairy Queen for supper!

Arta