Near the end of our day at Dollywood, I decided that MacKenzie and I needed a trip on the train that runs through the mountains beside the theme park to calm my little miss down. As we waited to board, I called Roomie with one (okay, two) simple questions:

“Hey, Roomie?” Except I don’t really call her that. SHOCKING.

“Yeah?”

“If I ever get asked out on a date again, could you please tell whoever he is to bring me to Dollywood at Christmastime and take me on the train?”

“That’s really weird. But yeah.”

“And one more thing. Could you ask him to hold my hand while we’re on it?”

“I’ll see you when you get home, Amy Beth.”

Laugh if you want, but I’ll tell you one thing: I have NO shame in admitting that I want to ride that train with somebody holding my hand. While I don’t have a list of things I’m looking for in a guy, I do have a short list of dates I want him to take me on: the aquarium, the zoo and, most importantly, Dollywood.

I can’t explain why, but ever since I was a little girl on class field trips to Dollywood, I’ve thought that riding the train at Christmastime would be the Best Date Ever. I have this image in my mind of me and some guy from my dreams riding the train together, mitten covered hands intertwined. Just thinking about it makes me smile.

In the last two weeks, I’ve been on that train twice. The first time, a very pregnant Roomie sat beside me; the second time, a tiny motherless girl. Not exactly what I pictured all those years ago when I imagined falling in love as the train circled the mountains.

But maybe that’s exactly who has been supposed to be sitting beside me this whole time. Maybe, while I figuratively ride the train until the one I’m waiting on shows up to sit beside me, I could keep his seat warm with others who can’t ride by themselves right now.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’m waiting on him.

It doesn’t make the desire for him to be here any less.

But it did give a little girl someone to hold hands with as the train rolled on.

Mittens and all.