She had on her best dress, a purple flower print that Father brought home on her birthday last year, and a hat. Mother didn’t even wear hats to the Sunday church service. It was purple with a stocking scarf hanging over the brim on the left side.

She walked to the station; it was only six blocks away. She could have went straight south on Johnston Avenue and then straight west on Renolds, but she zig-zagged turning at each corner. I suppose I could have just went right to the train station but I wanted to make sure she was going where I expected.

She stopped at Mr. Johnston’s stable and fed an apple to his black horse. Mother reached over the fence and scratched the horse’s nose while clicking her tongue.

I waited on the opposite corner, under a walnut tree, and wondered if this was the normal course she took on her weekend journeys. As I stood there I began to think about my lack of forethought. I hadn’t brought any clothes or much money, not that I would have known how to get a hotel room if I had the money. The back of my mind suggested that my mom would bail me out.

When we got to the station, the train was puffing steam, staying hot, at the platform. Porters stood outside the open doors, ready to help with bags.

As I was about to step onto the car, a hand pressed on my shoulder.

“Where you headed?” said a voice.

I followed the arm up to a face with eyes too close together. The nose slender, forced tight by the orbs. I paused too long.

“I asked you, where you’re headed.”

“Pittsburgh,” I answered.

“Ticket.” He held out his hand.

I fumbled in my pocket, found the slip, and held it out for him to take. He studied the words. I wondered how the world looked from his perspective. He shoved the ticket at me and nodded just slightly.

Up the steps I went, not sure if Mother went left or right. I guessed she would prefer the front of the train and turned right. There she was on the left side, in the third row, looking out the window. My heart stopped, and I held my breath. I moved quickly, trying not to make a sound.

The train’s horn sounded and Mother looked up. I quickly turned my back to her. The car jerked and I stumbled. I was behind her now and looked back to check if she saw me. If she had, she didn’t look now. I felt like she didn’t know.

The train ride was long and we made a lot of stops. People got up and left, or sat down next to me. It was some time before we came into the city. Slowly the buildings grew taller as we got closer.

Getting off the train took a long time and I was sure I had lost Mother. But she was in the station, dreaming in the front window. She was easy to spot; not many women looked as good as her.

As I watched her sway slowly, a smile crept onto her face. Then a man came through the station doors and she turned to face him. He was short and stout, wearing a grey suit and a bowler hat. She opened her arms and waited as he grew near. I had no idea who this man was, but my mother kissed him firmly on the lips and hugged him closely.