We likely should have left a little earlier. To get there on time. But it's a relatively short drive from where we live, so we apportioned twenty minutes, and because it was a Sunday and we didn't have to battle rush hour traffic, we made fairly good time. In fact, as we were about to make the turn into the road leading to the station, we watched as the Montreal train pulled up.

We'd never seen it so busy there, before. And we've been there often enough. Just not, obviously, on a Sunday, a September Sunday, midway through the month. Actually it was pandemonium, cars veering off in every direction, it seemed. And the line-up of taxis was incredibly lengthy, going all the way down the road from the intersection. Who knew there were so many taxis in the city? Was this the likeliest venue from which to gain a fare? It's a fairly large city, after all.

Ah yes, they lost the airport contract. That's why they're gathered here. Waiting. Drivers getting out of their cabs, gathering in little cliques, drinking coffee, discussing the trade. Likely exchanging opinions on their union's recent decision not to ask the municipality to proceed with a fare hike. In recognition of the fact that these are tight times.

I exited the car, went into the building, tried to make sense of the arrivals/departures bulletin boards. The line-ups for train boarding snaked from one end of the cavernous building - stretching from left to right - to the next, as people waited in orderly procession for their opportunity. Which gate should I be standing before, I wondered? Usually only one gate was in use, now all three were. How could I make certain I wouldn't miss him?

A tall young man in a light jacket, his facial features pleasant as he gave attention to the dog beside him took my notice. I watched as the dog, a large, well-proportioned, light-haired animal that I knew was part Poodle and soon learned was also Golden Retriever, was alert to every movement the man made. The conversation between the two, inclusive of body language was touching.

I asked if he was awaiting the arrival of the 644 from Toronto, and he said yes, he was, and wasn't certain that the incoming passengers beginning to flood the station were from Toronto. Two older, portly men hugged as they met close beside us and I asked whether one of them had just disembarked from the Toronto train. No, he was coming from Montreal, the Toronto train was just behind him.

In the end, I did miss him. My new acquaintance with the Poodle/Golden Retriever had decided to go off and look around, in case his mother had decided, on not seeing him, to wait closer to the entrance. I stood my ground. And before long, I was nudged from behind, turned to see my son's grinning face.