When I was in grade school, I decided I wanted a train set for Christmas. I don’t recall why I wanted one. But I did.

I received the train set for Christmas. My Dad meticulously nailed the track to a large board that could be slid under my bed when not in use.

This spring, I almost got rid of that train. I had kept it in a box. Despite the engine not working.

Alaska HAP Rails sells a train set with two domed cars and a track. We sold one to this man. He was so excited about it. I envisioned him going back to the lodge and setting it up instead of going out and enjoying nature.

Then it hit me. I remembered that train set. I thought of how my parent’s lived next to a guy who was retired from the Union Pacific. The neighbor had given my Dad several mementos from the Union Pacific. My Dad was always enamored by trains.

It hurts me so much that they aren’t here to see me now. If they were alive and healthy, they’d have come up to ride the train and loved it. I’m sure of that. They’d have loved Alaska.

But they aren’t. And that sucks. It isn’t fair and I question God about it often. It’s as if I am grieving all over again.

I have so much to share with them. When I’m sad, they aren’t there to talk to and listen. It’s lonely.

As a free spirit, I annoyed them more often than not. My Dad having been in the Air Force. Very regimented. I have never been accused of that!

I’d often hear them question what I was doing with my life. Why not get a job with the school district?

Because it’s a desk job. To me that’s like prison.

If they could see me now. I know they’d be proud.

If they could hear the kind words the guests say about me. How I am doing a great job. That I’m so good at this as they slip me a $20 or more for a job well done. When they tell me I’m talented as I carry a tray of drinks without spilling them. That I’m funny.

I hope that somehow they can see me. And are indeed proud.