When I was eight years old

We lived in Richmond, Virginia. But my dad had an office in Lower Manhattan. Specifically in the World Trade Center.

He decided to take me with him once. I have flashes of memories:

  • The train ride made me slightly dizzy.
  • I fell between the cars. (Yes, I really did. And yes, he really caught me.)
  • I thought it was amazing we took an express elevator up to a certain floor in his office building, and then ANOTHER one up higher.
  • I counted taxi cabs to waste time. I laid on the floor and concentrated counting the taxi roofs from God knows how high up. I am not sure I had even SEEN a taxi before this trip.
  • There was a puppet show in the lobby of the other building I watched on our way out one afternoon.
  • We went to New Jersey to a plant or a factory or SOMETHING. I slept in the back of the car. And informed Dad that New Jersey smelled a bit funny. I remember how much that made him laugh.
  • We took the ferry out to the Statue of Liberty. Steps. Something about steps? Did we climb up there? I need to ask him.
  • It was COLD.
  • We went to an Italian Restaurant somewhere close to Rockefeller Center because I DEFINITELY recall a huge Christmas tree and ice skaters on the way. I also have a hazy memory of getting horribly sick after supper. Sorry, dad!!!
  • And of course the icing on our trip? He took me to FAO Schwarz.

Thanks for being fearless enough to take me with you on a work trip, Dad. While the memories are vague in some ways, I can still feel the crisp cold air as I stared up at Lady Liberty in awe. I can recall the way the glass was cold under my fingers as I chewed on my lip trying to count taxi cabs.

I remember holding your hand as we walked towards your office. And I thought my dad was the coolest in the world for having an office in such a BIG building.

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