Posts Tagged ‘observations’

If I’m being honest I will admit to the twinge of annoyance I felt when I realized he was taking the seat across from me. I was looking forward to a quiet ride, lost in my own thoughts and the pages of my book but I feared that would now not be the case.

Having two children of my own I know they very rarely just sit. Instead they choose to talk, wiggle, fidget and question. My quiet ride to work had just flown out the window.

He was probably seven or eight, although I am notoriously bad at guessing people’s ages. Kids especially always trip me up, some being big or small for their age and all ending up older than I think they should be.

I had my foot up on the air vent at the edge of my seat, as I always do, creating a shelf with my leg that my book rests on nicely. Every day I do the same thing. I’ve done this commute for almost ten years (oh man, has it really been that long?) and every day it is much the same. One trip blending and blurring into the next, indecipherable from each other.

He also put his foot up on the vent, turning his body sideways in his seat to look out the window. He seemed content for a time to just sit and look. I couldn’t help but stop my reading every few lines to glance up at him, curious as to what he was doing.

From time to time he would sing to himself, moving his arms and head as though dancing along with the words. A smile would tickle my lips as I glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t see and become self-conscious, thinking I was laughing at him, because I was not. Rather my smile came from glimpsing the abandon and ease with which he sat and sang, seemingly unaware of all others around him.

He put a second foot up on the vent and slid them both over until they touched mine. If it was someone else I probably would have sighed impatiently, distressed over the invasion of my space. Instead I quietly moved my foot down to the floor, leaving him all the space. I put my open book down on my lap and stared out the window, hoping to glimpse what he was seeing through his eyes.

I wondered what he was thinking, what thoughts, worries, dreams were rushing around in his head as he sat. I wished I could live in his head for a minute, to go back to that age. We stayed that way, looking out the window until the train pulled into the station.

He yawned and shook his dad, sleeping in the seat beside him. He glanced over at me and our eyes caught for just a moment. I smiled, he looked away quickly. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. I probably did not register as anything more than a woman. In his eyes probably an “old” woman, lumping me together with anyone over the age of 20 in the same way I group together anyone under the age of 12.

I looked down and saw that I had not read a single page in my book.

I smiled, and realize I was not even the least bit annoyed.

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