When the subway doors opened, a woman and a young boy got on.
Another passenger, a man in his mid to late 20s, who had been sprawled out in a seating section that normally serviced two, quickly got up and offered the area to them.
The woman, who looked to be in her mid 40s, smiled her thanks, continued holding on to the subway pole with her right hand, and gestured with her left that they were okay with standing.
As the doors closed and the train resumed its course, a shift in gears had the young boy, about 4 or 5 years of age, who had not been holding onto the pole, suddenly sliding backwards. Surprise, elicited from him a drawn out, "Woah!" and a delighted grin. Quickly, he looked up to the woman as if to say, "Did you see that?!" She, in turn, met his eyes, shook her head and then perfected a camera take to the heavens whose subtitles could have read, "Lord, help this child?"
The boy giggled.
Returning his attention to the pole, he spent a few more times deliberately making a game out of holding and not holding on. A game which, from an adult's point of view, would most likely be called, Tempting Fate. And so, not coincidentally, a few moments later, the woman made her way to the previously declined seating section and gestured him over.
Obliging with youthful exuberance, he flopped down into the seat, and rested his head against her upper arm. With quiet affection, she leaned slightly towards him, patted his knee twice, and then resumed sitting back up again.
Visually exploring his immediate surroundings, the boy noticed a sign on the connecting doorway between the train's cars and asked what it meant.
"Do not lean on the door," the woman read out loud. She then proceeded to explain that sometimes the doors can open unexpectedly and so, to avoid falling and getting hurt, signs are posted to help people stay aware.
He pondered this for a moment and then, seeming satisfied with her answer, asked about other signs on the train.
One thing I admired as she answered his questions to the best of her knowledge, was how present and comfortably engaged her energy stayed throughout their exchange. But there was something more in the experiencing of it. Physically and energetically they were, undoubtedly, together. But the other thing I felt and found myself admiring was, to paraphrase Khalil Gibran, the spaces in their togetherness. Space to grow. Space to be. Honestly, felt... free.
When the train arrived at their stop, she once again leaned over, patted his knee twice, and this time, standing up and clasping hands, exited together.