Sitting close beside me in the open train car, my wife chattered excitedly as the little steam engine pulled its load of families through the shaded redwood forest. It was a rare day for us, a trip away from home.
We are blessed with good neighbors, adventurous folks who’d taken us for a picnic in the park, miles away from our small town routine. We’d hiked along a boardwalk to a pond where my wife excitedly pointed me at a row of turtles basking on a sun baked log. She’d squealed with baby pigs at the animal farm and gasped in surprise when a goat yanked the celery stalk from her hand. She chattered gleefully when the music started and her painted zebra moved up and down as the carousel whirled round.
Then, tightly packed, all sat together around our picnic table, sharing sandwiches, treats, and past summer stories in the warm afternoon sun.
The whistle blew , the train slowed, the ride and day would soon end. But I will be forever grateful for the kindness of our special friends.