Away and Back Again

Last week a student asked me if Charlie liked to travel and I had to pause to think about how to answer. Charlie definitely likes to be out and about and looking at things and being in different places (and going out to eat). But—as revealed when Charlie and I went to California in March without Jim—being in strange places is most appreciated when, at day’s end, he’s back in his own bed, with his favorite things and Jim and me around. So daytrips are just right.

Jim went into his office early Saturday morning and Charlie—as he’s been doing since school started—had a pleasantly (and, I’ve been thinking), necessarily lazy morning consisting of sleeping in, eating a nice breakfast, and napping. And waking and asking to look at some photos and then almost dozing off again (our couch must have a soporific quality). I coaxed him to practice piano and noted that afterwards we’d get in the black car and go to New York. Charlie grabbed his blue hooded sweatshirt and Leapster and got in the car. A big smile came over his face as we headed down the highway towards Routes 1 and 9 by Newark Airport and Jersey City. We could take the train from where we live but the trains don’t run as often on the weekend and there’s inevitable moments of standing around and waiting. From numerous travels with Charlie, we’ve learned that staying in motion is de rigueur.

So we’ve developed a fondness for the routine of parking at my office and then walking (it’s about a 12 minute walk, at a good pace) to Journal Square and catching the PATH train. It’s also an economical option, $1.75 each per ride, vs. about $10 for a round-trip train ticket (Charlie’s been free on weekends, but once he turns 12, that will change—-as he is, the conductors often ask for his age, as he looks older than 12, size-wise.)

We took the PATH into Christopher Street—-we usually (as on Monday) take it into midtown Manhattan and then take the subway up to Columbus Circle, near where Jim has his office. Charlie was a little disconcerted to find himself getting out at a different station and cried out as he and I walked up the steps—at the top of which was Jim. “Hey pal, I knew it was you!” Jim said; Charlie told us “no” at first about walking some before getting dinner and then—once we crossed a busy street and made our way towards the Christopher Street pier—Charlie ran onto a wooden platform in the middle and then out to the end to see the water and Jersey City’s skyline, misted over.

We wandered our way onto Houston Street from there, Charlie alternately walking beside us and ahead of us—that gave us numerous chances to note that he was easily as tall or almost as tall as numerous, not-children, pedestrians. We had dinner and, as it was raining lightly, Jim asked Charlie about taking a “yellow car,” a taxi, back. Charlie said a definite no and so we walked through Chinatown and Little Italy and down by City Hall, towards the PATH station at the World Trade Center site. We were joined on the way by occasional Mets fans; Charlie walked mostly in front of Jim and me—stopping when the sidewalk ended and waiting for us, Leapster tucked under his arm.

It was warm and humid and we got Charlie a Sprite before getting on the PATH train back to Jersey City. (The cold drink was gratefull received, as evidenced by Charlie’s growing grin as we rode back to Journal Square.) He led the way as he walked down Kennedy Boulevard in the dark and, once he’d run in the front door, immediately curled up on the couch with his old laptop with photos set up, and a big fleece blanket and (he asked for it) one of my sweaters. Some video-watching, and it was time for bed.

As I tucked the blanket over Charlie, the ending of two books—–Where the Wild Things Are and Harold and the Purple Crayon (animated here) came to mind. They’re both books in which a boy travels far from his bedroom window, and then ends up safe back in his own bed (and, in the case of Max, to a still steaming-hot dinner). One of the best things about traveling is coming home, and stretching out in your very own bed.