My dearest Cash,
You are a native New Yorker. A Harlem boy who loves the city, its pulse and its subway. But you also love the opportunity to get away which you and I had recently, this time by rail. Early Saturday morning Daddy and Grey dropped us off at Penn Station to catch the 7:15 train upstate to Woodstock. We were going to spend the weekend with my college friend who recently moved back east and her four year-old son, Maceo. The weekend forecast called for 80 degree and sunny with zero humidity - perfect weather for our adventure.
Riding the "big" Amtrak train set you on cloud nine and lucky for us, a kind stranger seated nearby told us which side would offer the best view of the Hudson River. After propping up the foot rest to use as your seat, you quickly pulled out your toy trains. We rode through upper Manhattan into the Bronx and eventually into the countryside. "Look Mom! Look!," you'd say, eyes wide open with amazement each time you saw another bridge, a boat on the river or a freight train passing by on the other side of it. Even the woman seated next to us took note, leaning in to whisper, "I remember when my son took his first Amtrak ride. It was so exciting."
Meghan and Maceo picked us up from the train station, and naturally the first thing we did was head to the swimming hole. I've been to this same swimming hole many times with Meghan throughout our long friendship, but this was the first time we were there with our sons.
In all honesty, I wasn't sure how you would feel about getting into the water Cash. You are my city boy who, for the most part, doesn't like to get dirty or wet or sandy or slimy. But to my surprise you grabbed your new friend by the hand and headed down from the road to the swimming hole. You took your shirt off and your shoes and joined Maceo in what all boys love to do - throw rocks.