Sitting on the bus, I found myself drawn to a family of four. Based on the dress of the adults, they appeared to be a family of (maybe) Middle Eastern descent comprised of a mother and father, a son, possibly around 12 or so, and a daughter, perhaps age 7 or 8.
When I first noticed them, the mother and son were listening intently to something the young girl was saying. The father was sitting across the aisle from the girl and he, too, was listening, and then they all smiled.
At the next stop, an older, African American lady with a rolling walker got on and sat near the man. As she collapsed the top part of the walker to draw the rest closer to her body, I watched the man kindly offer to hold it for her. She declined, smiling, but did ask him to dip her fare card so she could pay for her ride. Obliging, he got up, dipped the card, returned it to its grateful owner, and sat back down. He really was just beautifully kind. Everything about his energy in the unfolding interaction just hummed with kindness. Glancing back over, I saw the rest of his family quietly watching.
Last I saw of them, the little girl was once again speaking, the father now leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, and with the rest of the family looking on, smiling and responding.
A snapshot of love.