When my son was four, he was obsessed with vehicles.

Cars, buses, trucks—anything with wheels fascinated him. But nothing compared to trains.

Especially subway trains.

It was the summer before we left Bulgaria, and like every parent of a four-year-old, I was always thinking about where we could go and what we could do together.

Most families went to the zoo, the park, or the playground.

Not us.

We went underground.

On those hot summer days, the subway was actually a perfect escape. While the streets of Sofia were burning under the afternoon sun, underground it was cool and comfortable.

There was only one small problem.

My son didn’t want to ride the subway for a few stops.

He wanted to ride it for hours.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he had a favourite station.

We would get off there and simply… stay.

Not because we were waiting for someone. Not because we needed to change trains.

We stayed there to watch the trains.

One would arrive. The doors would open. People would get off. Others would get on. The doors would close, and the train would disappear into the tunnel.

Then another would come.

And another.

And another.

Sometimes we stood there for more than an hour.

I look back now and wonder where I found that much patience. At the time, I remember thinking, How many trains can one little boy possibly need to see?

Apparently, there was no limit.

Recently, I came across some photographs from one of those subway adventures.

And suddenly, that station didn’t feel boring anymore.

My eyes filled with tears.

There he was—four years old, completely fascinated by something so ordinary to everyone else. And there I was beside him, probably wondering when we could finally go home.

What I wouldn’t give now for one more hour on that platform.

One more train arriving.

One more train leaving.

One more little boy standing beside me, watching it all as if it were the greatest show in the world.

There is no subway where we live now. If there were, and he asked me to spend hours riding it with him, I think I’d say yes before he finished the question.

But perhaps the most beautiful part is this:

He still remembers our subway adventures.

All these years, I’ve thought of them as my memories of him.

Only recently did I realize they are also his memories of me.

Maybe that’s one of the strange things about parenthood. While we’re busy trying to get through an ordinary afternoon, our children may be quietly placing it somewhere inside their childhood.

And sometimes the moments that test our patience while we’re living them become the ones we’d gladly live all over again.

Even if it means watching just one more train.

And then another.

GK

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Published by georgi.kisyov

20 thoughts on “Subway Summer”

  1. Love this Georgi! This is such a tender reminder of how differently children and parents experience the very same moment. We may remember the waiting, the repetition, and wondering when we can finally go home, while they remember that we stayed. That we entered their little world for awhile and treated what delighted them as worth our time. Years later, the train itself is almost beside the point. What remains is the memory of being loved enough to have someone stand on the platform with you and watch one more come in.

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    1. This is such a beautiful way to put it. “They remember that we stayed” really touched me, because I think that is exactly what this memory means to me now. The trains were his whole world for those hours, and I’m grateful I chose to stand there with him—even when I was secretly hoping each one would be the last. Thank you so much for this thoughtful reflection.
      GK

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  3. This is beautiful. When my daughters were born, I wanted them to have a smell that they might one day connect to me and “home” so I started baking homemade bread. Recently, my oldest daughter was in the kitchen making my recipe and said, “house is going to smell good soon!” My heart melted.

    I’m so glad you found the patience to let him watch all those trains. I strongly believe that a child’s love language is play – and play is really just time.

    Thanks for such a lovely piece.

    😉

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    1. Such a beautiful memory about the homemade bread! I love how something as simple as a familiar smell can become part of what “home” means to our children. And I completely agree with you—so often, what children really want from us is simply our time. Looking back, I’m very grateful I gave him all those hours with the trains, even when my patience was being seriously tested. Thank you so much for sharing this with me.
      GK

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  4. Thank you for sharing this post. This brought back so many memories of when my own son was young. Our experience was so similar to yours. Our son loved anything that moved too: buses, lorries, elevators and particularly trains. We spent hours and days traveling on trains and the London underground and standing on platforms watching trains come and go from the station. He loved it. Very fond memories. Thank you for reminding me of them.

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    1. What a wonderful coincidence! It sounds like our sons would have been very happy standing together on a platform watching trains for hours. I love that this story brought those precious days on the London Underground back to you. It’s amazing how the things that seemed so ordinary—or endless—at the time become such treasured memories years later. Thank you for sharing yours with me.
      GK

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    1. Thank you so much! I think that’s exactly what these memories teach us—the ordinary moments we sometimes hurry through can become the ones we treasure most later. If we can remember that while we’re still living them, perhaps we’ll appreciate them just a little more.
      GK

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  6. I love this so much. Reminds me of watching trains with my son when he was 4. We would ride all around town and stop at different railroad crossings and wait. I am lucky enough to have a few videos from those days to look back at. Treasured memories. Simple things. Thanks for sharing your story.

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    1. I love that you have such a similar memory with your son! Those videos must feel incredibly precious now—little windows back to a time that seemed so ordinary while we were living it. It really is the simple things that stay with us the longest. Thank you for sharing your treasured memory with me.
      GK

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    1. That is such a beautiful thought. Sometimes we may never fully understand what makes something so magical through a child’s eyes, but taking the time to enter their little world and share that fascination with them is indeed one of the gifts of parenthood.
      GK

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  10. That’s the beauty of life. If we slow down long enough to explore the ordinary things with our child(ren) they become the best memories ever. My kids and I reminisce about Sundays in the park when we lived in Slidell, Louisiana. Getting beignets at a stationary red train caboose and crabbing in the bayou. All while listening to Sunday jazz in the park.

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    1. What a beautiful memory! Beignets by the red train caboose, crabbing in the bayou, and Sunday jazz in the park—it sounds like one of those ordinary family traditions that becomes extraordinary with time. I especially love that your children reminisce about those Sundays with you now. That’s when we realize those simple days truly mattered.
      GK

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