I had a 9am downtown doctor’s appointment yesterday morning and I was almost looking forward to it. Waking up before my kids for once, I was able to dress and get ready in peace. I packed my son’s school snack and laid out their clothes. Quickly dressing them, I explained that we had to head straight out to the car and they’d have breakfast at my parent’s place. I dropped them off and headed to the subway station. Bounding down the stairs with no strollers or little hands to grip felt like the ultimate freedom. I’d pick up one of those free newspapers and catch up on the headlines while traveling peacefully underground.
Instead, I heard a train coming and decades old instinct took over. I dashed past the newspaper stand and flew down the stairs just in time to duck into the subway car before the doors closed behind me. Yes, I still had it. No seats left at this time of day and no newspaper, but a nice spot by the unused doors and a novel in my purse were close seconds. Until, two stops later, my train went out of service. Now I jostled for position at the platform edge with a throng of other people who had to be downtown at exactly 9am. I did squeeze onto the next train, but then had to spend the next eight stops sandwiched between a couple hundred of my fellow citizens, unable to even hold up my book.
It was all starting to come back to me now. How had I managed to romanticize the rush hour subway commute?
Returning at mid-day, I was sure that now I’d get my relaxing train ride. I settled into a seat armed with two papers and my book. Two stops later, the train went out of service and we all filed out onto the platform.
Chalk one up for the work-from-home team.