‘A train passes here at 95 miles an hour at these times, whether you’re on the tracks or not.’ And then there was a list of times. Derek read the sign with some amusement and then as a secondary thought, checked his watch. It was 3.20pm. He looked up at the sign again and noticed that the closest time was 3.30pm.

I wonder if these times are accurate, he asked himself and then was startled by a voice from the car behind him. He turned.

“Dad, dad, aren’t you going to come back?” It was his 12-year-old son, Jeremey. He smiled and waved to his car which had not only his son in it, but his 10-year-old daughter, Agnes and his wife, Jennifer. He looked back at the sign and then returned to the car. He got into the driver’s seat, closed the door and looked at his wife. She wasn’t looking at him but instead into the distance, way beyond the railway crossing.

“It’s 3.20pm,” he began,

“3.21,” his wife corrected him.

“Namaste Mrs Wilson, hello, good morning!”

Mrs Wilson who was sitting at her desk busily marking some papers while waiting for her 12 o’clock class to arrive, pushed her reading glasses lower down her nose and looked at the students walking in. She smiled when she saw Rosa Blau with her usual large grin on her face, carrying what looked like a scrap book under her wing walk into the classroom and plonk herself on a chair.

Mrs Wilson waited for the rest of the class to take their seats before saying anything. She then carefully put her red pen down and got up from her chair. She walked over to the white board, picked up a dry erase marker and pointed at Rosa. “Good afternoon, everyone!” That caused Rosa to giggle slightly and cover her beak in embarrassment.

Each day after he finishes school, Pradeep Saxena goes straight home where he gives his mother a quick kiss on her cheek, pats his dog Lucy and then runs upstairs to begin his homework.

His sister Rita, always complained to their mother that Pradeep never came to say hi to her. “Ma!” she would say, “it’s as if I don’t exist in this world.”

Pradeep’s mother would assure Rita that she did indeed exist, and that Pradeep was on a mission when he got home. To that point, their mother would take Rita by the hand and walk her reluctantly into Pradeep’s room, where they found him hard at work tackling a maths problem. She would clear her throat pretentiously, causing Pradeep to roll his eyes and turn to face them.

“Ma!” he would say, “I have to finish my work before I can leave to go down to the station and every second counts.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“Where did you get that outfit?”

“We aren’t going to a Halloween party, Timmy!”
“You don’t look like a Sandpiper anymore, you look like a Penguin!”
Hearing all those comments from his family made Timmy sad. “I thought,” he replied glumly, “that because we are going out to dinner somewhere where we have never been before, with people we have never met before, that I should dress up.”

“Where did you get the costume?” Sybil wasn’t sure if she was amused or annoyed.

“Mum, this isn’t not a costume. It’s a tuxedo!”
“Sorry Timmy. Where did you get the tuxedo from?”
“The thrift store.”“The one at Dad’s synagogue?”
“Yes. Benne was there and he was helping Carole, and I told him what we were doing and where we were going. So, he suggested that if I wanted to make a great impression, then I should get this tuxedo.”

Jeremy pushed open the door, the bell sounded. Two men sitting against the back wall both reading the same kind of magazines looked up, looked at each other and went back to their pastime. Jeremy felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what to do next, so he remained standing there.

A couple of excruciating and painful minutes later, the slightly older one of the two men looked up but didn’t say word. Jeremy did. “I need a haircut please.” The two men looked at each shrugged their shoulders and went back to their magazines. Must be new editions, thought Jeremy, obviously more important than business. He remained standing waiting for one of them to reply.

Finally, the slightly younger of the two said, “did you read the sign on the glass?”

“Hi daddy, oh, hello mummy! I found a new friend out there in the sand while I was walking home from school.” Both Sybil and George were sitting on deck chairs with their eyes closed soaking up the sun on an extremely warm winter’s afternoon. “Her name is Melody,”

continued Rosa not taking much notice of what her parents were doing.

George was the first one to turn to face his daughter and open his eyes. “Whoa, Rosa! What are you doing?” he shouted which in turn made Sybil snap her eyes open and look in the same direction as her husband. She shrieked. Rosa blinked and wondered why her parents were freaking out.

At the tender age of 11, Jaswant Singh should’ve been in school. Instead, he rose early each morning, before the others in his house and got ready for a day’s work.

He missed school. He loved being in the room with his new teacher Yashwant Rao who had returned from America where he had been a successful entrepreneur and had given up his entire life to return to India. Yashwant had received a great education at the leading boarding school in India, after which he had gained entry to the Indian Institute of Technology in Kanpur, where he excelled in electrical engineering. He went on to get his Masters at a premier institution in the US, before getting a high flying job at one of the largest high tech companies in Silicon Valley.

But there had always been something missing in Yaswant’s life. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. But it all came together when he returned to his village in the Punjab one very hot summer. He paid a visit to the school where he had first become interested in maths and physics. All the current students had been told that someone famous was going to visit them, so they had to make sure they looked their best, “for this most famous man who is going to come to talk to us,” Jaswant Singh told his mother and father. “Maybe I too can become famous like him.” He sincerely meant it.

“Ah, the Barcarole!” James smiled as he turned the corner onto New Bond Street and heard the music float in his direction. It had been quite a while since he last walked down that street. It reminded him that he had been away from London for about four months at Officer Candidate School in Aldershot. His smile grew wider as he approached the corner of Oxford Street where Douglas, the organ grinder, had stood guard for years in all kinds of weather. He got a glimpse of James and for a moment he didn’t recognise him in an officer’s uniform. The last time he had seen James, he was wearing what all poor university students wore, a shirt many too sizes big for him tucked into a pair of hand me down slacks and a large overcoat. But it was his smile. His unmistakable smile that gave him away.

Derek loved trains as a child. In fact, he had loved trains all of his life. As far back as he could remember he enjoyed watching trains, building toy trains, and playing with a train set when he was all of two years old, even though he didn’t understand what it was. He just enjoyed watching them go around and around on the tracks in his room.

When Derek was an infant, his father went out the day after he was born and bought a train set which he eagerly put together in Derek’s room. Many, quite rightly, felt that he had bought the train set for himself, so he could relive his childhood vicariously through his son. That probably was correct, but the end result was that Derek too loved trains.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” shouted little Rosa at the top of her voice as she ran out onto the deck. “Mummy! Daddy! Mummy! Daddy!” she changed her greeting upon seeing her mother sitting next to her father with her eyes closed holding a wine glass in her wing.

Sybil nonchalantly opened her eyes and turned to face her daughter. “Oh, hello Rosa dear. Thank you for including me in your daily greeting.”

Rosa chose to ignore her mother for the moment as she didn’t want to forget the reason she had run out onto the deck. “Guess what?” she asked standing in the doorway.

“Don’t tell me little one,” Sybil said taking a sip of her wine. “You just got your report card and you came top of the class.”

Rosa rolled her eyes. “No mummy, not even close.”

“Not even close to coming at the top of your class or not even close to the reason you came out here?”

“Hello daddy, namaste. I want to… “Rosa stopped when she saw the look on her father’s face, as he put down his newspaper and swung around to face his daughter.

George smiled, “and who is this, Rosa?”

“I was going to introduce you to my bestest friend dad, but when I saw the….”

“The look of surprise dear Rosa is that what you meant to say?”

“No daddy. It was a look of….”

“Well, I’m sorry Rosa dear. It was meant to be a look of surprise

“Hi, hello, namaste, my name is Rosa Blau. I’m eight years old and my favourite movie is Barbie. I have seen it 500 times and I’m a good girl!”

George lowered his newspaper and looked at his youngest daughter as if she had two heads. “What was all that?” he asked as she stood not too far from him with her hands clasped in front of her wearing a silly grin on her face. George had been sitting on the deck of the nest looking out at the peaceful Atlantic Ocean while reading his newspaper, as he did most evenings when he came home from work. That would inevitably lull him to sleep. He was getting close to that tipping point until Rosa came outside and interrupted his flow.

I was 5 and my sister 4. The year was 1954 and my father had been posted to take command of the Third Battalion the Grenadiers. It was the second time he had taken charge of that battalion. The first was in 1947 just after partition in Bombay when he took over command from that last British colonel, Colonel Shebbear.

“Oh, I wish you could’ve been there when he ran.” Dan laughed at his recollection. “You could always tell where he was on the track. He had this long hair flowing behind him. Others with long hair would tie theirs behind in a ponytail or in a braid, but not him, he just let it flow and flow it did. Thick black shoulder length hair flowed behind him majestically as he ran around the track. I wish you had been there.”

I pulled into what looked like the last parking spot in the grocery store car park without having to walk half a mile or so. I pulled out the grocery list from my pocket to glance at it before putting it back. It was a mental test I had developed for myself over past few the years and at which I must admit, I fail miserably.

As I was taking the keys out of the car in preparation of getting out and fighting the hordes in the food aisles, there was a series of sharp knocks on my window. I looked up to see a pint-sized man with sunglasses wrapped around his entire head staring at me. I lowered my window and before I could ask him why he was interrupting my preparation, he blurted out, “you’re parked illegally!”

Dear God, this is me, Rosa. Someone in my school told me I was being rude by talking with you. He said I shouldn’t do that and I should treat you with more respect. I told him you are my friend. Isn’t that right God? You are my friend? Can you hit him with some lightening, so he doesn’t pick on me anymore. Anyway, you’re a good boy, thank you and Amen and oh yes, sleep well.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! wake up. I have to tell you something very important.” Rosa ran into the living room where her father was fast asleep in an armchair closest to a window, after a really hard day at work negotiating a new contract with the Teamsters. He needed to rest once he came home, instead of standing at the door as he normally did waiting for Rosa.  He had collapsed in the chair after giving Sybil a quick peck on the cheek.

Hi God, it's me Rosa. Sorry, I was being a naughty kid today, but I did not like my brother doing math with me cause he's very smart and he does not make math fun. My teacher said that in everything that must be done, there must be an element of fun, just like Mary Poppins. God, can you please make sure my daddy gets better sleep tonight because he was very tired and yawning. And, God please, make Julia stop making spicy food for dinner and one last thing, please, help me get oatmeal for breakfast. OK? I love you. You're a good boy and I'm proud of you. Amen.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” shouted Rosa as she ran towards her father who was waiting for her at the front door, colliding with him instead of jumping into his arms. George managed to stand his ground, though he was rather winded.

Dear God, it’s me Rosa once again. I am hoping you’re not getting tired of hearing from me. If you are, I can cut back talking to you to only two times a week. Please let me know in my dreams. Also please let me stay smart in school and when I tell my friends I want to be a cashier at Domino’s Pizza when I grow up that they stop laughing at me. Not everyone wants to be a doctor or a lawyer like my aunty Elizabeth. Please also make Elizabeth more girly and less like a man. I think that’s it for now. I’m tired and want to go to sleep. So, bye for now and oh yes, you’re a good boy, Amen.

Hello God, it’s me Rosa you’re favourite little girl. I want to thank you for another beautiful day. Do they have beautiful days on all the other planets you look after? Thank you for giving me my family and of course my wonderful daddy, but I have to also say my wonderful mummy because she told me I needed to. Thank you also for my bother Timmy and my sister Julia and especially Julia because otherwise my mummy would have to cook and then we would all die. I’d better go to sleep now because my mummy is looking at me. Ok God. Bye for now, I love you and oh yes, Amen.

Jeremy Steiger waited for the full moon. He was excited. He came home from work at the local birdseed mill in Surf City, where he is a foreman after stopping at Trader Joe’s.

Dear God, it’s me Rosa, your favourite little Blau. I just want to thank you for the summertime and making the weather cooler today. God, I need a few very important things from you. Please make Timmy an astronaut and Julia a chef. Also please help my Mummy feel better, because she’s not nice when she feels ill. She picks on my handsome Daddy. Anyway, you are a good boy, and I love you. Night, night. Amen.

Sybil woke up with a headache.

“Can I get you anything my dear?” asked George who felt he was pushed out of bed because he was drinking his coffee too noisily.