It's the small things....

There is something to be said for living in the moment.  Enjoying each minute as it comes, seeing the joys of nature and humanity.  No where is this more evident then on my train ride into the city each morning.

A few stops after I get on, a man and his toddler daughter hop on the train.  They take a few moments to get settled; he adjusts his backpack and hers, takes off coats, brushes her hair with his fingers, all the while this little voice saying "dad! dad!".  They settle in to yogurt, juice boxes and the morning paper.  The conductor comes into our car yelling "Tickets! Get your tickets ready!" She squeals in excitement, jumping up and down.   "Dad! Tickets! Tickets!" grabs the ticket from her dad's hand, proudly waving it in front of the conductor.  As this is a monthly ticket, there is no need for the conductor to stop, he normally waves at you and moves on.  However, each morning the conductor bends down, takes the ticket and pretends to put a punch in it.  He has a brief conversation with her (I call her "The Baby") and smiling moves on.  "The Baby" has a way of lighting everyone's mental load.  Throughout the train ride she sings, repeats the same sentence in a sing song voice, discusses topics that only make sense to a 3 year old and occasionally will whimper or whine (Only to be jollied around by her loving dad).  She entertains a trainful of curmudgeony commuters who are half awake and trying to focus themselves for the day's tasks. No one can help but smile and feel there is more right than wrong with the world.

The 7:11 train is a creatures of habit route.  Most of the people on this train sit in the same seat in the same car.  You can always tell when a "newbie" rides on the 7:11.  They have the audacity to frown and roll their eyes at our "The Baby" while looking to other passengers for confirmation on what a pain it is to have a toddler along for the commute.  We, the people of the first car of the 7:11, stare down this interloper making it painfully obvious that this is a treat, not an endurance.  This is the effect "The Baby" has had on us all.

The end of this tale is the most heart warming. "The Baby" and her dad collect their belongings and get off the train.  Her dad settles her into a stroller, adjusting her hat, mittens and boots.  She waves at certain people and says "hi" in that perfectly perky voice that only the very young or very old can get away with.  She lightens up all of our paths including the two older men, beaten up by time and circumstance, who ask for spare change outside.  Every morning, the father and "The Baby" approach the men.  "The Baby" greets them, waves and exchanges some words of wisdom. Immediately the two men break out in beaming smiles.    Anyone who witnesses this small kindness cannot help but be touched by it.  The simple act of a child and the startling consequence is a lesson in humanity.  It is not what you give, but how you give it.  It's not the wealth of your presents, but the wealth of your presence.

So thank you "The Baby", every morning I am reminded to the beauty of life and the importance of generosity of spirit.