Sitting on the No. 5 train in Brooklyn headed uptown, I glanced around the mostly empty subway car. Towards my right, across from me but about six feet down, sat a family of three. A mom, her son and her little daughter.
The little one was asleep in the stroller. She had on a red winter cap and a red coat with heart patterns all over it-- except for the picture of Elmo on the bottom left hand corner. Lying on her chest was a yellow pacifier. The Mother was sitting on the edge of the cornflower blue grey seat, leaning towards the stroller, as she scrolled through her silver metallic colored phone. The young boy, maybe 7 or 8 years old, sat to her right in a black coat, with his blue and black book bag still on his back. He sat in a manner that brought to my mind images of young boys at church on their best behavior.
At one point, the little girl started to wake up and her mom, alerted to the slightest shift in her daughter, was already looking at her, waiting quietly as the girl journeyed back to the land of consciousness. When the little one finally, drowsily, opened her eyes, mom and child exchanged a smile before mom placed the pacifier in the girl's mouth. Then, the little one made eye contact with her brother and slowly waved at him. He gave her an answering smile, leaned forward and waved back.
Her little wave, his answering one, the smile on his face, her smiling response, was all so sweet and so unexpected to me, I couldn't help but smile too.