"Choo Choo" or "End of an Era"

My cousin is now gone. This evening we parted ways as his parents drove him to their house for the weekend. On Monday he will re-enter Minnesota Teen Challenge to finish his program and possibly do an internship.

Last night it was only the three of us home, the Warden, my cousin, and me. So we decided to ride the train. My cousin, although he actually worked on it, had never ridden the light rail from Downtown Minneapolis to the Mall of America. So off we went. When we got on board it was standing room only, with not even a round handle to grab onto. As we headed south people slowly started disappearing, and the Warden was first to find an empty seat. My cousin and I stood for most of the way, not finding a seat until about the airport. The airport is where my cousin was working on 9-11-01. He was driving pilings for an entrance to the light rail tunnel under the airport. He spoke about how eerie it was going from continuous takeoffs and landings to absolute silence. Only a few fighter jets were allowed to take off.

A short while after these somber remembrances, we arrived at the Mall, each of us bringing a very empty stomach. We were tempted to grab the first thing we saw, chips and pretzels, but decided to walk until he happened upon someplace with food of substance. Around the first bend was a place we had been once or twice before, the Rainforest Café, the original one at that. And this time there was no line, so in we went. They sat us next to an absolutely awesome fish tank, filled with at least a dozen different varieties of brightly colored fish. I never tire of that sight. And I would have been content to leave that place merely feasting on the visual stimuli. But I ate anyways. And then I helped the Warden with her plate. I would have helped my cousin too, but he was holding a fork in one hand and a sharp knife in the other.

And the conversation was as good as the food, recapping the past two months together and our soon to be more separate futures. Although the food is part of the place’s draw, the ambiance is probably the greater pull. I’ve mentioned the fish, but the place is also known for its frequent thunder and lightning, its numerous jungle trees, and a gift shop with all sorts of toy animals. I didn’t see the parrot, however, that used to be out front to lure people in. Maybe he’s only a weekend treat.

Did I mention the coffee was great? And because it was, I had to visit the boy’s room on the way out. This gave my cousin and my wife a chance to mosey on through the gift shop. While leaving the facilities I heard the loud screeches of a Rainforest monkey. A new feature, I thought. As I looked around many others were also enjoying this new sound. Was there a monkey in the house? I kept walking until I saw the Warden up ahead. But she was running away. What was the deal? What was I missing? Then out of the corner of my eye I see, and hear very loudly, the monkey—my cousin. He has perfected a monkey call and screech, loud enough and believable enough to get most of the restaurant’s attention. And loud enough to encourage the Warden out of the gift shop without buying anything. Thank you, dear cousin.

These past few months have been like that, always full of excitement, and laughs, and heart-to-heart discussions about life and faith and family and work. All of them wrapped around with plenty of joy from a new lease on life and a new appreciation for each new day. I’m going to miss that.