Maybe it was a memory I had from age three, the time my family packed up our rented Ryder truck and the notorious green van that Dad had pounded a homemade wooden carseat into, and driven across the country to live with my grandparents in Connecticut while my grandfather recovered from cancer-of-the-mouth surgery, that led me to this. It was that winter, that Christmas, that stands indelibly in my childhood memories as the most magical. Even though my grandpa had to write everything on paper that he wanted to say aloud, everything else about being there, in the house with the grand staircase, the formal dining room, the back door that split in half, the baby grand piano, and the ever-loving, ever-kissing arms of my grandmother day in and day out, was pure magic to me. And it was that Christmas Eve when my sister and I, after opening the one present we were allowed, went to bed and were shortly thereafter awakened by my parents. I still remember my dad’s thick, heavy whisper as he shook me awake. “Girls! You’ve got to come see this. Santa is downstairs right now!” We plodded our pajamaed feet as quietly as mice down the stairs and peeked into the living room. Sure enough, giant red sack in hand, donning black leather boots and gloves, Santa Claus himself was carefully placing Mickey-Mouse-wrapped gifts under the tree. We stood in awe for several moments, wanting to squeal with delight but too frightened to make a peep, before Mom and Dad shuffled us back up the stairs.
If for one moment I could recapture that magic for my daughters, then my job as a parent would become everything that I had imagined it could be.
I never read “The Polar Express” by Chris Van Allsburg as a child, but discovered it years later when I was a nanny. I was immediately captivated by the story and the amazing illustrations. And a couple of years ago when I saw an ad in Colorado Parent about an actual Polar Express train ride in Durango, I knew I wanted to take the girls. So, Disney plans on hold due to financial setbacks, we decided we could afford this one little getaway.
We set out the Saturday after Thanksgiving and arrived to three little girls’ thrilled pleasure at the indoor pool and hot tub at our Hampton Inn. Of course we swam immediately, then had a delicious dinner at Steamworks Brewery. The restaurant was packed with families, all of the children dressed head to toe in fleece pajamas, ready to ride the train that night. Our tickets were for the next day, but the excitement was building at the sight of all those Express-bound kids.
We spent Sunday on a beautiful drive along the Million Dollar Highway between Durango and Silverton, stopping to look at a natural hot springs formation, to take some pictures of the San Juans and Colorado Trail, to point at one of the mountains I “peaked” during Outward Bound, and to stroll through the quaint Victorian village of Silverton. We stopped for lunch at the Brown Bear Cafe, a turn-of-the-century dive with aluminum ceilings, a giant wood stove, and an intricately carved bar. After we arrived back at the hotel, we took one last dip in the pool before heading over to the train station.
The giant Santa balloon out front might have been enough to satisfy Riona’s happiness, because she even bragged about it later to the conductor of the train. We went inside, collected our souvenir tickets, and… waited. At last, they let the ever-increasing crowd out into the boarding area. On the loudspeaker, they immediately began playing Liam Neeson’s recording of the beginning of the book where the narrator describes the arrival of the train. Then, they played the soundtrack music from the movie. We were all standing and looking at this train, and there were several cars that had no windows. Bruce turned to me and said, “Do some people have to sit outside?” And we tried not to say aloud how disappointed we were… and then we heard the whistle. The REAL Polar Express was chug-chugging around the bend, puffing steam. Between the music, the excitement of the crowd, and seeing the mile-wide grins and giggles of my girls, tears crept into my eyes when it came right into view and actually had POLAR EXPRESS painted on the side (when all us grown-ups know it’s the Durango-Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad).
And then the clip from the movie: “Well, are you coming aboard?” “To where?” “Why, to the North Pole of course!” And the conductors, the chefs, dressed exactly like the book, escorted us into our first class car. We sat down in our plush seats after removing the golden tickets from each, and they started playing the hot chocolate song from the movie, and quick as lightning, they brought us our special mugs filled to the brim. The only pictures I was able to snap of Riona caught her on the edge of her seat, so excited was she that she couldn’t sit still. Isabella gulped down every drop of her giant cocoa and Mythili grinned, grinned, grinned out the window. The conductor came around and, just like the movie, clipped away at our tickets with a hole puncher containing the letters, NP. They played the entire story on the loudspeaker as the chefs walked around showing us pictures from the book. Then they brought cookies… and we arrived at the North Pole!
There was Santa in his sleigh, surrounded by lit-up houses and trees and several elves. The chefs told us to open the window and soon everyone was dangling outside of the train, reaching out to the elves and telling of their adventures. And then Santa came on the train. All day long, my girls had been saying, “I hope I get picked to get the first gift of Christmas!” And he came around and gave a beautiful tinkling bell, exactly like the reindeer sleigh bell from the story, to every child on the train. He stopped to let me take a picture with him and the girls. And with one delicious chocolate sucker and a songbook of Christmas songs that we all sang along with the music playing on the loudspeaker, we were headed back to Durango.
I looked back and forth between my girls’ faces as they shook their bells and nibbled at their chocolate and couldn’t stop talking about the lights, the train, the amazement of it all, and I thought, this is what it’s all about. This is what makes me a mother, what makes us a family… this is what love, and its magic, are all about.
