The Calm in a Child’s Hand

I was on my way to Trader Joe’s with my wife and Peppa when I saw a woman with a stroller and a small child about to head down into the train station. I was ready to help her with the stroller, but before I could, another gentleman coming up the steps stepped in.

Her little one lagged behind, trying to catch up. She almost lost her balance and looked like she might topple down the steps, so I put my arm out to catch her if she fell. As I guided her, she reached toward my hand. I asked, “Do you want to hold my hand?” She grabbed it, and I walked her safely the rest of the way down. At the bottom, my wife introduced her and her mom to Peppa.

The feel of her tiny hand, her trust, and the sense of safety she seemed to find in that moment, it was beautiful and wholesome. I don’t know if it reminded me more of holding my son’s hand when he was little, or my baby sister’s when she was a child, but for those few moments I felt calm in the middle of the wild, turbulent streets of New York.

I hesitated about sharing this, the same way I did with another subway story I once wrote involving a child. But in both cases the parents were present, and the moments were safe. We live in a sick world with terrible people, but that shouldn’t stop us from sharing and holding on to the rare, beautiful moments like this.