Years ago, when my family and I first moved to New Jersey, my children were still little. Every…read moretrip to the airport began the same way--with a ride on the AirTrain from the parking garage. And somehow, I managed to convince all of them that there was a man sitting up front, driving the train.
Whenever one of them began questioning my story, the recorded voice would come over the PA system. "Listen," I'd tell them. "The driver is talking." For a while, that was all the proof they needed.
As they got older, of course, they became harder to fool. One day, when I could see the doubt written all over their faces, I pointed toward the front of the train.
"If nobody is driving," I asked, "why does it have a windshield wiper?"
My youngest daughter studied it for a moment and finally said, "That makes sense."
I think that bought me another year.
But childhood has a way of slipping away whether we're ready for it or not. Eventually, the AirTrain driver joined Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy among those wonderful things my children no longer believed in.
The years passed.
Yet whenever I return and ride that same AirTrain, something happens. The familiar recorded voice comes over the speakers: "Please remove all personal items before leaving the train."
And for just a moment, I'm back there.
My children are small again. Their hands are wrapped tightly around the railing, and they're watching the tracks with complete seriousness, worried that the mysterious man up front might somehow drive us right off them.
I can almost hear their voices.
Then another announcement comes over the speaker: "We are approaching the station."
And just like that, I'm back in the present.
I look at my watch and wonder if my daughter's flight is on time. It has been a full year since I've seen her. Only now, she isn't that little girl riding beside me anymore.
She's arriving with a little girl of her own.
As I wait for them and search the crowd for their faces, I find myself smiling.
Maybe some things get to come around twice.
And I wonder:
Will my granddaughter believe me when I tell her there's a man sitting up front, driving the Newark AirTrain?