Rug Rat

We were all on the train together when I saw it happen. The woman looked so defeated, I thought she was going to slump over in her seat and never move again. There was a tattered, plastic grocery bag in her hand, her fingers barely holding onto it, and a dirty purple diaper bag at her feet. The subway car was almost empty, so the few of us inside were sitting down, helplessly rocking from side to side in our seats. We were all close to slumping over, I guess, but not the kid.

The child was a comet. Her puffy jacket was unzipped and her velcro sneakers were coming loose, but she was flying. Two, maybe three years old, she was a bright pink fighter jet, a flying spaghetti monster, waving her arms and laughing, playing tag with the poles. I couldn't tell who was winning, but she was having a great time and her laugh was infectious. I caught the smiles on the other riders faces whenever she zoomed by. She ran from where her mom sat at the end of the car, to about the middle of it, and then back to do it all over again. On her way, she joked with the chairs in some baby language none of us spoke. A mostly empty subway car was apparently the happiest place on Earth, but only this kid knew it. It was wonderful to watch.

Her mother didn't seem to notice, lost in thought somewhere much less pleasant than the world where her daughter was. Exhaustion seemed to pull down everything around this woman, the bag, her limbs, the corners of her mouth. There were dark circles under the her eyes and she looked on the verge of crying as she stared out the window at nothing but blank tunnel whooshing past. I felt bad for her, but I felt worse for the little girl.

I worked with children and parents every day, and some of the parents had that same look of being in pain and far too tired to manage it. In my experience, they often took that pain out on their children. Whatever life had crushed out of them, they seemed determined that their child should be crushed in the same way. I doubt it was a conscious decision, but I winced every time I heard a parent raise their voice and turn their anger and sorrow on such a small person. "Stop being a brat!" might be their response to an earnest question or a playful push for attention. My silence in these moments shamed me, but it wasn't my business. You can't tell people how to raise their kids.

"Mama! Mama!"

The girl was careening back towards her mother, her little, brown face alive with delight. She was coming in for a landing. I felt my stomach plummet.

What would I hear this time? Brat? Sit your ass down? I couldn't bear that. I started to plead with the woman in my mind.

"Please just let this girl be happy. I can't imagine how hard it must be taking care of her, I know you must be tired. I don't know what's making you so sad, but look! She's so damn happy in an ugly, dirty subway car and that's an ability none of us here have and she may never have it again, so please let her have this. Please."

The girl ran to her mother's lap and threw her arms as far around her waist as they could go. She had knocked the bag out of the woman's hands and now the little one was looking up at her mama, head thrown all the way back in that sweet, adoring way young children both like to do and must do. I braced myself for the inevitable rebuke.

That's when it happened. Her mother smiled. It wasn't a regular smile. The way that woman looked at her little girl just then was like a miracle, a perfect moment that I felt with my whole body. The smile didn't just appear. It bloomed. It was like a rush of warm air had filled the space around them and except for the almost-fallen tears, the woman by the window was a totally different person. She was transformed.

"What is it, niña?" The mother laughed (laughed!), returning the hug. The plastic bag on the floor was ignored or forgotten while she covered her daughter's face in quick, tiny kisses. The girl giggled and tried to run away again, but her mom started tickling her.

I realized that I was staring and looked away, but I could not stop smiling and now I was the one with tears on my face. I cried from relief, from guilt, and from the incredible beauty of what I had just seen. I worried that all of these emotions had played themselves out on my face, but it was obvious the woman didn't care. She was in her own world too now, the happiest place on Earth.