The Christmas Train

A few days ago a beloved toy came out of the attic.  My young son absolutely adores it.  It is only available about 3 months each year.  The rarity increases its value and magical appeal.   It’s his Christmas Train.  This particular train arrived one late December morning.  This glorious contraption has many pieces, that when fully assembled can circle easily circle a 7 foot pine and the wrapped packages beneath it.  The train is red and green, has lights, whistles, tooting and chugging sound.  There is even a flint that sends out a thin plume of smoke like a burnt match.  Ah, the wonder of it all!  We set it up with the tree sometime in mid-December, and it goes into the attic soon after my son’s birthday in early spring.   One of my favorite Christmas memories involves this toy train.  The morning it arrived, carols played while I cooked in the kitchen. Wrapping paper was all over the floor, with spilled contents of stockings.   I looked up over the counter to the family room, where three generations of  boys laid with their bellies on the ground.  No heads were visible, only three pairs of legs sticking out from under the tree, along with endless ooh’s, ah’s, and giggles.   Our dear Papa has gone, fallen just over a year ago to cancer than came on hard and strong.  Christmas will never be the same for either my son or my husband, having lost the giant of a man they both adored.  So, this year, as we put up the tree and the train, and we giggle and we sing, and we cry a little too.