A Father a Son and an Answer


A Father, a Son and an Answer
Passing through the Atlanta airport one morning, I caught one of those trains that take travelers from the main terminal to their boarding gates. Free, sterile and impersonal, the trains run back and forth all day long. Not many people consider them fun, but on this Saturday I heard laughter.
At the front of the first car — looking out the window at the track that lay ahead — were a man and his son.
We had just stopped to let off passengers, and the doors were closing again. “Here we go! Hold on to me tight!” the father said.
Syndicate content