Also, I never dreamed that when I held him in my arms for the first time a decade ago, that exactly ten years from then we'd be fist pumping in my parent's kitchen together.
 |
| 2001 |
 |
| 2011 |
Monday, October 24, 2011
A Delightful Decade
Happy 10th birthday to my most favorite person in the entire universe - my nephew, Ethan! During the past ten years I have experienced more unconditional love than I ever thought my heart had the capacity to handle. Even though we live several states apart, we share a remarkable bond that keeps us quite close. Being an aunt is the single most important and wonderful privilege I've ever known. Thank you, Ethan, for coming into this world and making me smile more, laugh more, love more, and live more over the last decade!
Also, I never dreamed that when I held him in my arms for the first time a decade ago, that exactly ten years from then we'd be fist pumping in my parent's kitchen together.
Also, I never dreamed that when I held him in my arms for the first time a decade ago, that exactly ten years from then we'd be fist pumping in my parent's kitchen together.
Friday, October 7, 2011
A Missed Connection, A Shared Connection
I had an odd experience on the train this morning during my commute to work. While I was waiting on the platform for the train, I observed a mother and her child sitting on a bench also waiting for the train. Her little guy was probably about seven or eight years old, and he was quietly working on some schoolwork. His young mother sat staring off into the distance, seemingly not present in the moment. Her expression was blank, but in my heart I felt as though she may be hurting in some way. As the train approached, I felt compelled to get on the same car as they did, even though it wasn't the closest car from where I was standing. The train was pretty full, so I ended up standing next to the boy with his mother on the other side. As the train took off, the boy wasn't holding on because he was busy fumbling with his notebook and back pack. The train took a predictable sharp turn, and when I saw that the boy was going to lose his balance, I instinctively held my arm out to keep him from toppling over until he could get a grip. His mother seemed oblivious to anything that was going on, but this made me more sad for her than angry.
As people were getting on and off the train, a double seat opened up within a few stops, enabling the boy and his mom to sit in front of where I was standing. The boy wasted no time whipping out his school work again, and it looked like he was working on spelling words, as I observed a list he was making down the page. And seconds later, my instincts about his mother proved to be spot on, as I noticed tears in her eyes. She was quick to wipe them away and was doing her best to conceal her feelings, but it was too late. Seeing her so upset instantly broke my own heart, and tears welled up in my eyes simply from speculating about what could be making her so sad.
I can't explain why I had such an emotional reaction to this perfect stranger. I obviously had no idea why she was upset, but I am human, so I know what suffering looks and feels like, and it always breaks my heart. I think it bothers me so much because I don't know if certain gentle souls are strong enough to handle the crap that life has a tendency to throw at them. And in this case, she has a helpless child who depends on her to be strong.
I was so affected by the woman and her son that I inadvertently stayed on that train, as opposed to connecting to a different train line that takes me closer to my office. I wanted to ask this woman if she was going to be OK; I wanted to give her a hug and tell her that everything was going to be OK, even though I can't possibly know if that's true. I really hope that woman is much stronger than I perceived her to be - for the sake of herself and her child. I hope that she has people in her life who love and care about her and can comfort her with whatever she may be going through.
In addition to mentoring, I've also been volunteering with kids at a shelter for battered women, so I'm wondering if being exposed to so many kids from broken homes contributed to my reaction on the train this morning? It absolutely kills me to know that so many women and children are in pain. And the fact that I'm only seeing a tiny fraction of people in this world that are struggling breaks my heart even more. My parents aren't perfect, but I had a near-perfect childhood, and to think that there are children out there witnessing and also shouldering the burden of their parents' pain makes me wish I had the means to somehow save them all from heartache. Why does life have to be so effing hard for good people?
OK, I know this hasn't been a very uplifting post thus far, so what you may find humorous is that the mother on the train instantly seemed to set aside her problems when she saw my crazy ass wiping away tears. She must have been so confused, but she just stared at me with the same concerned and compassionate look that I had probably been giving her just moments earlier. I wasn't about to make her uncomfortable and tell her that it was her tears that were breaking my heart and causing my eyes to spring a leak, so I desperately worked to pull myself together.
I just can't get over how the heartache of a stranger affected me in such a way that my instincts were fully in tune to her emotions, and I wonder if she sensed it too. As wrapped up and involved as we are with our own highs and lows in life, today's morning commute served as a true testament and reminder of the powerful connection humans share.
My subway stop was before theirs, so I offered the mother a smile as I was exiting the train, even though I felt compelled to offer so much more. I at least hope that I see that mother and her son in my neighborhood again, on what seems to be a better day for her.
As people were getting on and off the train, a double seat opened up within a few stops, enabling the boy and his mom to sit in front of where I was standing. The boy wasted no time whipping out his school work again, and it looked like he was working on spelling words, as I observed a list he was making down the page. And seconds later, my instincts about his mother proved to be spot on, as I noticed tears in her eyes. She was quick to wipe them away and was doing her best to conceal her feelings, but it was too late. Seeing her so upset instantly broke my own heart, and tears welled up in my eyes simply from speculating about what could be making her so sad.
I can't explain why I had such an emotional reaction to this perfect stranger. I obviously had no idea why she was upset, but I am human, so I know what suffering looks and feels like, and it always breaks my heart. I think it bothers me so much because I don't know if certain gentle souls are strong enough to handle the crap that life has a tendency to throw at them. And in this case, she has a helpless child who depends on her to be strong.
I was so affected by the woman and her son that I inadvertently stayed on that train, as opposed to connecting to a different train line that takes me closer to my office. I wanted to ask this woman if she was going to be OK; I wanted to give her a hug and tell her that everything was going to be OK, even though I can't possibly know if that's true. I really hope that woman is much stronger than I perceived her to be - for the sake of herself and her child. I hope that she has people in her life who love and care about her and can comfort her with whatever she may be going through.
In addition to mentoring, I've also been volunteering with kids at a shelter for battered women, so I'm wondering if being exposed to so many kids from broken homes contributed to my reaction on the train this morning? It absolutely kills me to know that so many women and children are in pain. And the fact that I'm only seeing a tiny fraction of people in this world that are struggling breaks my heart even more. My parents aren't perfect, but I had a near-perfect childhood, and to think that there are children out there witnessing and also shouldering the burden of their parents' pain makes me wish I had the means to somehow save them all from heartache. Why does life have to be so effing hard for good people?
OK, I know this hasn't been a very uplifting post thus far, so what you may find humorous is that the mother on the train instantly seemed to set aside her problems when she saw my crazy ass wiping away tears. She must have been so confused, but she just stared at me with the same concerned and compassionate look that I had probably been giving her just moments earlier. I wasn't about to make her uncomfortable and tell her that it was her tears that were breaking my heart and causing my eyes to spring a leak, so I desperately worked to pull myself together.
I just can't get over how the heartache of a stranger affected me in such a way that my instincts were fully in tune to her emotions, and I wonder if she sensed it too. As wrapped up and involved as we are with our own highs and lows in life, today's morning commute served as a true testament and reminder of the powerful connection humans share.
My subway stop was before theirs, so I offered the mother a smile as I was exiting the train, even though I felt compelled to offer so much more. I at least hope that I see that mother and her son in my neighborhood again, on what seems to be a better day for her.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)