I was crossing the street when I first noticed the sound. It was coming from a few feet behind me.
I was on a street full of people, but this vocal, non-distinctive (thereby making it all the more distinctive), carefree, non-sensical sound brought to my mind the image of a child wrapped up in play. It caught my attention because it was different from the sounds of traffic all around me. But then it held my attention because I didn’t hear an adult companion chiming in with hushing sounds, or attempts to engage in conversation.
The sound followed me down the stairs, into the subway station and continued as I made my way to the subway platform. Then, as the train pulled in, I turned around and found it was coming from a child— a bright eyed boy of around 5 or 6 with the warm dark brown skin often associated with people of South Asian descent. He was dressed casually in jeans and a green hoodie— the latter made even more distinctive because the hood was in the style of a frog’s head with cartoon-like eyes sitting on the top. It was adorable. He was adorable. And he had a male guardian with him.
When the train doors opened up, we boarded the same car—the young one quickly scrambling onto a vacant seat, his guardian crossing over to stand quietly in front of him. Settling more comfortably into the seat, the boy continued his soundtrack of play, while the guardian pulled out his phone and began scrolling through.
When another passenger got up, freeing the seat next to him, the boy, enthusiastically patted the seat, calling out to his guardian, “Daddy! Daddy!”
So, as the train pulled into my stop, the man called, Daddy, put away his phone before slowly sitting down. And as I exited the car, I heard the bright light of a boy once again resume his carefree soundtrack of play.