Translated…
Back when I was in school, the happiest thing was being able to ride on the trains operated by my dad. If I’d learned that he was driving the early shift, No. 647, I would enter onto the platform earlier than usual, and hearing the P.A. announced that the train is about to enter the stations, then, elongate my neck, as I looked forward to the trains arriving.
Normally, as the trains entered into my field of vision, would see my dad, sitting in the driver’s compartment, flashing that gentle smile at me, and I’d waved back excitedly. Looking at my dad who had that train operator’s hat on, with the ties, I feel very proud he is my father, he was, very handsome and professional!
not my photo…
As we got home, I’d asked my dad playfully, did he feel a lot of pressures, operating the train his son rode in? My father looked settled, patted his own chest with confidence, NO, and emphasized, “My train feels different than the rest!”
Several times I’d gotten off school, found that my father’s train was, already, waiting at the station, I’d gloated to my classmate about it, “We are very lucky today, we’re going home on the specialized ride!”
Recently, my youngest nephew too, started taking the trains to and from school, but, my dad retired not too long ago, otherwise, he may have the chance of riding on his grandpa’s specialty train too.
not my photo still…
So, this, is your memories from your schooling days, and, you’d especially cherished the times you had, to ride on the trains your father was driving, because it brings you closer to him.