A Sucker for Babies

As the subway neared my stop, I left my seat and moved to the door, ready to get off. In the seat beside the door was a mother, her toddler in a stroller beside her. He was bundled up for what the weather would be outside, and he was eating his breakfast. Or snack. Mommy had a tangerine and was placing prepared sections in the tray of the stroller. The little guy reclined a bit against the sloping back of the stroller. His eyes wandered around the subway car as his hand would grope the tray for the next segment of tangerine. Occasionally he would use both hands to bring his sippy-cup up to his lips for a swig of juice. He was as happy and relaxed as a baby can be. When I caught his eye, I waved my mittened hand at him. He fluttered his pudgy fingers in return. He didn't give me a real smile, but just an acknowledgment that we were on friendly terms. He took another tangerine segment. I waved my black leather hand again. He fluttered the fingers of both hands. A two-handed wave. I smiled—no, actually I was grinning widely. He was so muffled up, so quiet, so contented, with his round chubby fact and his body enclosed in yards and yards of snow-proof clothing. We reached the station. I very much wanted to catch his eye for one last wave, but he had lost interest in me. He looked around deliberately, still popping tangerine pieces into his little mouth. I was yesterday's lunch.

 

Copyright 2011 Ann Tudor   

www.anntudor.ca
http://scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com