Coney Island

Yesterday was Sunday and my usual routine is driving my father back to Brooklyn. For some reason, he was very sad when I picked him up. We sat and talked for a while and he started to cry. He was reminiscing about things he and my mother did. They loved to take drives around Brooklyn. He would drive and whistle a tune. My mother would look out of the car window and comment on the nice houses and busy streets. They did this a few times a week for 65 years. It was their form of relaxation. He began to talk about Coney Island. First he told me stories of when he was a child and he and my grandmother went on the Wonder Wheel. He loved the part when they got to the top as it felt like the top of the world. He said someone had told him that the Wonder Wheel and Cyclone were now gone. I told him they were still there. As he continued telling me stories, I asked him if he would like to go to Coney Island today. His eyes lit up and he said he would love to. We got in the car and drove home, but instead of getting off at the usual exit we continued on to Coney Island. We drove down the main street and he saw the Wonder Wheel, the Cyclone, the Freak Show buildings and Nathan's hot dogs. He was thrilled and told me even more stories with the excitement of a child. He then wanted to go along the same ride that he and my mother did for years. He directed me up and down streets that I never knew existed. Then he guided me back to his house. I could feel the happiness in his soul. He said he felt like he was on vacation, doing something different. I was so glad that I could give him these few minutes of pure pleasure. I know my mother was riding with us.