It’s ok if your wait is a little louder than ours.

Our son has been asking every couple of days to go to our local train park. We venture out rarely these days due to the risk in our state.

This weekend the weather was beautiful, and we decided to take both kids. We went to the ticket counter in the gift shop and bought our tickets. Nixon watched as another boy, around two, touched the trains in the package. Nixon carefully picked a couple up and lined them back up in their place. I was holding Nora in my arms, and she was watching the couple in front of us. Nick bought our tickets, and we headed out the double doors to stand in line.

It wasn’t a long line but long enough to wait for one train to make the trip around the tracks. Nixon was wearing his dinosaur mask and hanging on the metal bars guiding us where we should stand. He was calm we were reassuring him that we only had one more train and then it would be our turn.

A Father in front of us held his son, maybe around three years old, as he wiggled in his arms. The young boy was getting more and more restless as the minutes passed. Nora was getting restless as well. The boy began to cry quietly at first and then louder. He started to scream, and I could see the Father struggle to keep him in his arms.

I had been there, dreading the wait. Knowing that this could turn from a family of four casually waiting in line to all eyes on us at any minute. We have learned tricks to make it easier, snacks, sensory toys, and tickles. Sometimes we melt into the moment and try to ignore the stares.

Nick bumped my elbow to alert me to the puzzle piece key chain on the Father’s backpack. I instantly felt a connection to this stranger. I wanted to look him in the face and say, “we have been there, you are doing your best, we know once he gets on the train, it will be calmer, and I see you not just as another set of staring eyes.”

I have felt so many times the judgment of others as the mood escalated. I have walked to our car many times, tired from the physical chasing, but also the mental toll those wandering eyes put on your shoulder. We have learned to embrace our families’ differences, and sometimes that too can feel defeating.

I wish someone had casually said to me many times we see you all here, and it is ok if your wait is a little louder than ours.

I didn’t say anything to that Father that day. I wish I had. Maybe next time, I will be brave enough to let him know I understand his physical and mental strength.

© 2021, Tabitha Cabrera. All rights reserved.