Why I, an efficiency-driven person, stand at a railroad crossing for an hour every week. The happiness of a parent found within waste

How do you all spend your time while waiting for your children's lessons?
Looking at your smartphone in the car, reading a book at a cafe, or perhaps going home once to finish chores.
That is how an 'efficient' adult spends their time.

However, I did not have those options.
The waiting time for my daughter's abacus class that occurs every week.
That 'blank hour' was, for me who loves efficiency, once an unbearable 'time of confinement'.

But, a realization one day at the railroad crossing in front of the station turned that boring time into 'a precious time in life'.
This is a record of the day I linked it to memories of my late grandmother and realized the joy of being a parent.

1. The 'railroad crossing duty in front of the station' that happens every week

Abacus time with no escape

This is a story from when Koneko-kun was in his final year of kindergarten.
The abacus school my daughter attends was located near the next station.
Dropping her off, exactly one hour until the class ends.
Koneko-kun and I had a set routine.

'Dad, let's go to the railroad crossing!'

A railroad crossing within earshot of the station platform announcements.

That was our waiting spot.
While my daughter was clicking her beads inside the classroom, we would continue to listen to the alarm sounds outside, which felt like the breath of the station.

One hour for an adult, one hour for a child

Standing in front of a railroad crossing for an hour.
Try to imagine it.
How long those 60 minutes feel to an adult just standing and waiting for a train.
There are no errands to run that would take a few minutes if I checked my email on my smartphone. I just wait.

'Isn't it over yet...'

Beside me as I checked my watch repeatedly, Koneko-kun's state was the exact opposite.

• Cheers for the inbound train being sucked into the station

• Excitement for the outbound train being spat out from the station

• Anticipation when the alarm sound started ringing again

For the entire hour, without cooling his passion at all, he kept waiting for the next train with excitement. There was not a hint of him getting bored.
This time, 'until my daughter's abacus class ends,' was an irreplaceable golden time for him.

2. Showa-era memories awakened by the alarm sound

It was one autumn evening, under a dim sky while waiting for the abacus class to end.
As usual, the alarm sound rang out, 'kan-kan-kan-kan...'

The wind turned a little cold, and I squeezed Koneko-kun's small hand tightly.
The moment the warmth of that hand and the alarm sound ringing in a rhythmic beat overlapped, an old memory I had almost forgotten vividly returned to my mind.

My beloved grandmother and the railroad crossing of that day

That is a memory from when I was still small.
There was a similar railroad crossing near the house of my beloved grandmother.

Every time I went to my grandmother's house, I would pester her,
'I want to go see the trains!',
and have her take me.
My grandmother would always smile,
say 'Yes, yes,' and take my hand to walk to the crossing.

Back then, I was exactly like my son Koneko-kun is now. Holding my grandmother's hand, I would be mesmerized by the approaching trains and watch them without ever getting bored.

Of course, the line was different.
The white and blue Odakyu Line.
I loved that train.

3. My grandmother was not looking at the 'trains'

The moment that memory surfaced, a sense of 'guilt' and a certain 'truth' pressed upon my heart at the same time.

When I was a child, I thought my grandmother was enjoying watching the trains with me. But now that I am a parent, I understand it painfully well.

Stopping her busy housework, going out of her way to walk to the crossing, and just waiting for train after train to pass by. My grandmother couldn't have had any interest in trains.

Moreover, she might have been thinking, just as I do now, 'My feet are tired' or 'I still have to prepare dinner.'

Was I being a burden to my grandmother?

However, seeing the profile of Koneko-kun, who was clinging to the fence in front of me and looking forward to the train with his whole body, I was struck by a realization.

What I was looking at was not the train, but my son

Right now, I am not looking at the trains. I was looking at my son's face as his eyes sparkled, thinking, 'I wonder if the express train will come next!'
Just by watching his happy face, this boring, long hour had strangely become something fulfilling.

I see. Was my grandmother like that on that day, too?

What my grandmother was looking at was not the passing cars, but my face as I watched them with joy. She was sacrificing her own time, enduring the boredom, and simply holding my hand just to see the look of happiness on my face.

I can no longer say thank you

'Dad, it's here! It's the express train!'

Listening to the voice of Koneko-kun, who was excited to see the express train racing by with a roar as it passed the station, I thought about it. My grandmother is no longer in this world.
I cannot tell her, 'Thank you for that time. It must have been boring.'

4. The relay of 'paying it forward' realized through my wife's words

After picking up my daughter from her abacus class and returning home, Mother Cat (my wife) was waiting with dinner prepared.

'Oh, welcome back. ...What's wrong? You have a somewhat
melancholy look on your face.'

Mother Cat seemed to sensitively pick up on the subtle changes in my expression.
When I explained the situation, saying, 'Well, I just remembered my grandmother while I was waiting...', she put down the kitchen knife and said gently.

'Maybe what we are doing for Kitten-kun is just a repetition of what someone once did for us.'

At those quiet words, my heart felt suddenly lighter.

[Father Cat's Comment]
While holding my son's small hand, I felt my grandmother, who used to hold my hand, on the other side of it.

That time at the railroad crossing might have been the necessary time for me to pass on the baton I received from my grandmother to my son.

Even now, every time I use this station and hear the sound of the railroad crossing, I remember that warm sunset of that day. For me, this station is not just a transit point, but a precious place that nurtured the time between parent and child.

I remembered this and wrote it down because there was a call for submissions on note with the theme of stations.

It gets lonely when there is no reaction and I feel like I might stop writing, so I would be happy if you could press the 'Like' ❤️ button instead of saying 'I read it' 😺