Sitting on the downtown train during my after work commute home, out of the corner of my eye, I observed the mom of two mini doppelgängers, helping the older of the girls with her workbook homework. Possibly ages 8 and 5, they sat on either side of her, affection unmistakable as she was the magnet they both curled towards.
Now, not only was she making use of the train ride to see that the work was being addressed, but at several points during the journey, when the girl was clearly having a difficult time with the work, the mother kept calm and focused, giving her time to express her frustration and then patiently kept guiding her back to the work at hand. Playing the role of determined teacher, mom pointed often to something in the workbook, and nodded her head to emphasize a point.
The younger girl kept herself focused on what may have been a game on her mother’s phone. And once, during a pause in the lesson, when the older was rummaging for something in her book bag, the mother joined the younger, looking intently at the mystery unfolding on the screen.
When the train reached the end of the line and everyone rushed off, the last I saw of them, they were on the platform, mom still in the middle, but now holding hands, making their way towards the station’s exit. Seeing that the older girl had traded in the workbook for a solitary homework sheet sturdily supported by a folder and the younger still held on to the phone, I found myself thinking there was probably still at least one more leg left in their journey.