Seen On the Bus: Guardian and Little Girl, After School in Brooklyn

Shopping bags from Target in tow, I boarded the bus.  After dipping my fare card, I squeezed past another passenger, located an empty seat and noticed the little girl along the way.  

Sitting near the front, she was munching, steadily, contentedly, on the potato chips from the medium sized bag of Utz in her right hand.  She looked to be about 4 or 5, her skin a smooth dark brown, her eyes a bright, inquisitive, darker brown, avidly taking in her surroundings.  Her hair was hidden under a hot pink winter beanie with the word, Love, emblazoned in capital letters across the top.  That theme was echoed in the pattern of tiny white hearts decorating her black slacks.  

I didn’t notice her Guardian— her father, I believe, — until he stood up when someone pressed the button for the next stop.  In his right hand he held a small hot pink book bag, and with his left, carefully guided her up to standing. Once he was satisfied that she was set, he continued to hold her hand, but looked back up to check on the bus’s progress.

Seconds passed, and he looked down at her again, this time seemingly with the singular focus of being in the moment, quietly taking her in.  And there was something about the look that had me softening and thinking thoughts of love and kind, protective fathers.  Then, perhaps realizing it was taking some time for the bus to arrive at their stop, he remained standing, but carefully guided her back down into a different seat.  While she looked completely unfazed; still eating her chips and observing the sights around her, I attributed some, if not all, of her ease, perhaps, to feeling safe in the arms of love. 

When the bus came to a stop, a few other passengers queued up behind him and waited patiently as he, once again, carefully guided her up, then slowly down the stairs, out of the bus, and onto the sidewalk.

 

A Few Observations I Appreciated from the Other Day

Carrying a toddler higher up above her waist, one arm around to cradle close, the other below to both brace and provide a perch for the little one, the lady moved quickly past me.   The child, whose arms were linked in a loop around the guardian’s neck, burrowed deeper into the embrace.  And on this cold and windy morning, this walking tableau spoke to me of love, care, trust.

 

There was the woman I passed on the sidewalk flanked on either side by young children (one looked to be as young as a first-grader, the other, possibly, no older than fourth grade). They moved as a unit, their steps brisk, though their level of engagement seemed, almost, leisurely.  She was speaking to the one on her left-- the older one whose eye contact, body language, and lips curving up just so, signaled a forthcoming and, likely, humorous protest to her words.  The younger child, expression, a soft gaze trained on the path ahead, left arm looped through her right elbow, was also, judging by the head tilted in their direction, quietly listening.  This had me revisiting some early childhood memories of being out in the world with my mother on my way to being dropped off at school.

 

As I sat in the waiting area for a follow-up doctor’s appointment, one of the medical assistants came out a few times to greet and escort patients further into the office. The first time he opened the door, he mimicked being an opera singer and sang out the patient’s name. When he finished, he had a big smile on his face and I burst out laughing!  The next time he appeared, channeling a game show host, he mimed reading the patient’s name from an imaginary card, saying, "Come on down, you're the next contestant!"   Don’t know how often he changes it up, but I appreciated the fun he was having with it.

 

Finally, there was the Registration associate who addressed my concerns about a medical procedure that was scheduled for me when what I had actually agreed to was a medical consult.  She listened, asked the co-worker who had given me the initial paperwork to cancel the appointment, and then explained how best to proceed.  I really appreciated her energy.  At no point during our interaction did I feel rushed by being cut off or did I pick up any sign of impatience while I was speaking. She listened with presence and kindness and it made me think of a quote that’s sometimes attributed to Maya Angelou about people, possibly forgetting what one may say or do, but always remembering how they made one feel. 

New Year Wishes for 2022

Hello! And Bright Blessings upon you and your 2022 🌟💗🌟 In 2022, I wish you restorative silences, healthy perceiving, courage to take action or speak up when you get that inner nudging that it's the healthiest thing for you to do, all the assistance you could require in speaking up in a way that can be heard (and even when it's not heard, a genuine, quiet, inner harmony that, despite the outcome, you took steps to take care of your part of the relationship), compassion for yourself and others, the extending of grace and true forgiveness for yourself and others, more of everything that makes your inner child laugh with glee, more of everything that's healing for your energy,  more of everything that contributes to your taking the steps towards living the inner life you want to be living, patience with yourself, patience with your journey, the courage to address coping mechanisms that aren't serving you and, whenever possible and to the degree that it is healthfully possible, the courage to breathe and be present to what's unfolding 🌟💗🌟 Good luck with 2022. Take gorgeous care of yourself-- as best as you are able.  C.Y.O.