Something sweet happened on the train when I was headed downtown.
I had gotten up in a very melancholy mood for reasons unknown. It happens sometimes, as though I watched a very sad film while dreaming.
Across from me sat a young Hispanic girl with two children; a baby asleep on her chest and a three year old boy who kept watchful eye over his sibling and mom while they both dozed.
You couldn’t help noticing what a child she was herself…babies having babies.
I idly took a bottle of Poland Spring from my bag noticing how carefully this kid was watching me too.
My natural instinct was to share, so I held it out to him to see if he’d like some water. Without a moment’s hesitation he hopped over to me, trusting as can be. I held his little head, a mop of black hair falling across his tiny forehead as he took a big gulp. He looked at me squarely and smiled before sitting back down next to his mother who woke up suddenly, pulling him closer to her.
The boy and I exchanged looks, our secret safe. All I knew was, my heart was now the width of the Panama Canal.
When I got off at Spring Street I felt as if I could fly.
That child reminded me of what I wasn’t doing…trusting.
Trusting that whatever was bothering me, subconsciously or otherwise, would take flight and all would be well once again.
Yes I do.