It was only a day or two ago when I found myself pushed into an underground train, brimming with stress and claustrophobic resentment; there were no seats untaken, no space unfilled. Saturday afternoons can be terribly busy on the Picadilly Line; tourists pour in like lemmings, throwing themselves precariously into the river of peeving commuters. The London underground can be a wholesomely awful place; I believe it would be in the public’s best interest to devote a small percentage of the NHS’s annual allocations to stress-reduction techniques, at least for those of us who must brave the hostile labyrinth of the underground. Anyway, there I was, my nose uncomfortably close to a foreign armpit and my backside getting all-too-comfortable with a travelers luggage bag. I was in hell, and for a short time insisted that everyone else know I was suffering so dreadfully, if only through my expressive eye-contact.
But then something wonderous happened, something that turned my whole day around. Up from the sea of grumbling faces shown a laughing, beautiful young boy who had against all odds managed to shimmy up his father’s torso, claiming the cramped canopy as his own. He hugged the upper railing in absolute glee, and looked out over the silent crowd in awe. It was my great fortune that he look my way, and while I tried my best to overt my eye contact, I found myself momentarily gazing into this sweet child’s eyes. He smiled at me and it felt like the sun. Despite my preconceived notions of childhood shyness, it was I who looked away. I was too startled to smile back. And as soon as this moment had begun it was over, I found myself shuffling once more between trains and escalators and people. But if you had seen me then, I am quite certain you would have seen my face brighten, if ever so slightly. I had been unexpectedly thrown into a child’s adventure. I had remembered how fantastic it all is, how every moment can be filled with wonder if you only change your perspective.
I left with the hope that each day, if only for a moment, I can find something to gaze at in wonder. Something I can view not from the conceited, dreary perspective of a troubled traveler, but from the eyes of a kid. If I can do this, then I can do anything. Children are the greatest carriers of magic in this life, may we all be open to their blessings.