It was like Christmas when that little Asian girl laughed on the train today.
She bounced onto the train holding her daddy’s hand and was led, bouncing, toward a spot to stand, right in front of me. I didn’t notice her at first. I was too distracted by my iPod, but then I looked up and saw her giggling… just giggling for her own secret reason.
Her dad found her a seat and she bounce over there too, singing to some string of Disney songs while pointing at things out the window and asking “Daddy, what does THAT mean?” at an ad. Bounce, bounce, bounce in pig tails and Disney songs.
I saw this woman, maybe 26, sitting across from me looking around with searching eyes, then glancing back to the girl – with her own secret smile growing now. She was trying to find a compatriot in adoring this girl.
I paused my iPod now, and watched the child … “Part of this world …” The woman didn’t have to try very hard. And as I watched the child, I laughed out loud, then the woman laughed, and then lady two down from us, and then man standing above me. Everyone’s eyes softened a little and no longer did their faces read “Back the Fuck Off”. The little child’s secret was contagious.
It was like that Christmas the year when Uncle Paul died, mom? Your brother? He died a month before Christmas, the year I was born?
I remember you telling me once – the story of that Christmas following his death. You said that the tone was somber – all the adults trying not to think about Paul. All, reaching for each other’s hands – thinking about how Christmas is the time for family “… and he isn’t here”. “He shouldn’t have died,” you heard yourself cry. “It isn’t fair,” others said avoiding tears by staring at twinkling lights.
“But the children,” you whispered while telling the story, “the children” you said again, but louder now and with a laugh.
“You were crawling around, drooling. Becky was watching with a doll in hand and Mike and Dave were trying to figure out this new WWII plane model … You didn’t know about Paul, and it didn’t matter. You kids were just happy to have your toys, just happy to be in the moment. And then we saw you all together, and we were in the moment too. You guys made it all bearable and didn’t even know it.”
This little girl was like Christmas.
