A Day or Two in Toronto

I came to Toronto by train--a mode of travel I particularly like for that trip.  It gives me a chance to read quietly, gin and tonic close at hand.  Very often I don't have a seat-mate, and that is my favorite time.  It isn't that I'm anti-social, it's that I like the space.  It's much easier to avoid spilling my drink if it's sitting on the table next to me rather than the scrunchy one in front of me. 

I also love the whistle.  Every time I hear it I am transported back through time to the days when we lived close to the tracks.  The train came through my little town--fittingly named after a senior engineer for the trains--and the tracks were basically across a farmer's field.  That melancholy minor chord was a part of our nightly existence.  

The best time was when the circus came through because the train cars were brightly painted.  I remember that Dad would wake us up to take us closer to the tracks.  We would hike across the farmer's field, and feel the air rush by as the train did.  I marveled at the painted cars and always hoped that the clown or the ring master would be waving at us from the caboose.  

In the future, the train will also make me think of my parents.  They came to visit us this past December, and travelled by train.  As I listened to the snippets of conversation, I realized that Dad would be the one who at some point, would speak to every other person in that car.  The atmosphere on the train is often far more congenial than that on a plane.  

I was in Toronto for a course, which when it began, seemed a total waste of time.  I did learn what I needed to however, for the afternoon went much better.  After that, my favorite part of the day began.  I met with my friend Joelle for a delightful dinner.  She is one of the true gems on this planet; she is thoughtful and refined, gracious and witty, and the most faithful of friends.  It has been a while since it was just the two of us, and while our husbands are always welcome and encouraged to come, I have to admit that it was a treat indeed. 

Afterwords we went to see her son, who shares so many of his mother's traits.  I really like him. He is a musician and a song-writer, deep in his thinking but quick with his teasing, and he knows how to make a mean latte.  The milk was perfect!  

The next day I was hoping to meet another friend but that didn't work out. Instead, I pretended it was already my birthday, and I went shopping at the Eaton Centre.  I wandered in the city-under-the-city for hours.   I didn't find any clothes but I did enjoy my annual complientary-for-your-birthday hand massage at Aveda, and picked up some skin care stuff at Origins.  I was really looking for a binder-portfolio that wasn't black, and while I saw many that were, the fact that I seem to mistake them for my laptop computer is something I can no longer ignore.  

The rail-ride home was uneventful but quite crowded.  And thankfully, there were taxis waiting at the station...a welcome sight since the recent transit strike has kept them very busy.   My cat greeted me as though she was sure I'd left her forever...it's good to be back.