Sometimes it's okay to hurry up and wait...

My dad loved trains. LOVED them. For as long as I can remember back, if there was one crossing somewhere or getting ready to cross, he'd say, "Look! A train! Cool!" I had gone to a train show with him once or twice and usually was excited for him when he was happy about his train hobby. After he died, it was a long time before I could enjoy seeing a train again. When I changed jobs last year, my route to work sometimes puts me in the path for a potential train crossing and usually as I'm driving, if I hear the whistle in the distance, I punch it down the street so I can get over the tracks before the lights start flashing. You never know how long it's going to take once the arms go down...sometimes not too long and sometimes it seems like it's never going to end. One morning, I was already running late and sure enough, about the time I get to the tracks, the lights are flashing and the arms are moving down. I was so annoyed and frustrated as the train went by. Then I had this epiphany that my dad would have LOVED it. He wouldn't have cared about the time...well, usually. So even though I sometimes get frustrated about the timing, I've learned to embrace the train stops, because I'm sharing a moment with my dad all over again. I just wish the moment would still include the caboose, since the best part of waiting for the train when I was growing up, was trying to guess what color the caboose was going to be! Now when everyone else is frantically changing routes to avoid the train crossing, I just slow down and wait. There's too many other things for me to get upset about...and I do...like when the train has passed and then the arms don't go up for ever and ever. Then I can get mad at the city....but not the train...it's already passed...TOOT TOOT.