The Bathroom Train
Just like a photograph captures a physical moment, a story photograph captures a moment that happens inside our heart…
In my blog series Story Photographs, I’ll be capturing a subtle but dear moment of our life in a story.
I hope that as you read this story photograph, you can also remember your own treasured moments from your daily life.
This story took place when I was eight or nine. That time, I used to look forward to Saturdays when I went to attend classes at a local music school. My main interest was not the music lesson itself was to meet my two childhood best friends there.
Once our classes were over, we would come downstairs to meet our mothers. To our delight, they were usually deep in conversation at the entrance. So, the three of us would sneak out to play in the back while our mothers were busy talking. We were always giggling and jumping with joy as we ran to the back where nobody could really find us.
Once in the “safe spot,” we would discuss what to do during this precious time together. One of our favourite activities was called “The Bathroom Train.” In this activity, the three of us formed a line holding the shoulders of the person in front us and upon the signal “The Bathroom Train departs now. Let’s go!” we started exploring the building of our music school. It was the strangest creation of ours and nobody knew why it was named that way, but we loved it.
Our school was housed in an old apartment building converted into a music school. Since it was old, there were many interesting details to spur our imagination, and the purpose of the Bathroom Train was to discover something new in this familiar, yet mysterious building.
One day, we decided to go to the top floor of the building. Our classrooms were mostly located on the 2nd floor and below, so we had never been to the top floor. Once we got off the elevator, the corridor and everything looked exactly the same as other floors. We went to the first door and opened it.
The inside looked quite different. It felt like somebody’s home, not a classroom. Next to us was a small glass container with goldfish in it and we could hear the TV sound from the back.
“Somebody lives here…?”
One of my friends said out loud what we were all thinking. We turned to each other and grinned, fascinated.
Then we heard somebody’s voice from inside and a lady came out.
“How can I help you?”
Surprised and embarrassed, we were speechless for a second. Then we explained that we were attending the music school downstairs.
“Oh, this floor isn’t part of your school,” said the lady. “People live on this floor.”
“Oh, I see.” We nodded, and since there was nothing more to say, we thanked her and left the place.
As we ran back downstairs, our hearts were skipping with excitement.
“It’s the best discovery ever!” We screamed. “Cheers to the Bathroom Train!”
We were laughing and skipping when we found our mothers waiting for us at the entrance.
“Where have you been? Come, we’ll go home now.”
I felt so sorry that our mothers didn’t get to enjoy this great discovery of our Bathroom Train. They didn’t have the slightest idea what an amazing event had just taken place while they were chatting.
Note to my dearest reader.
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