On Saturday I was on the subway in Stockholm and as I was ascending the escalator I saw this tiny person standing in front of me. He was clearly the offspring of the man standing down below on the platform. The offspring, aged maybe 3-4, was eagerly climbing the escalator steps one at a time and once and a while glancing down at the father. He hade hope and joy glistening in his eyes. He was clearly on a mission, an adventure. He reached the top and I beholded his next move.
He went to the escalator next to the one he just rode. He looked at it. Stood still a while and pondered. I stopped to see his next move. The escalator he was taking back down was still. It didn't move. His father down at the bottom tried to gesture to his son to take the next one, that was working. The boy looked down and started his adventure down. On the escalator that stood still.
As I stood there my heart started aching. Because I remembered what it felt like taking the longest escalator I'd ever seen. How exciting it was. How I could stay out all day, without eating, to build the biggest snow castle. How I remembered and at the same time realized I'd lost that. I'd lost the child's enthusiasm about the small things. They become every day life. But then I realized that the father, at the bottom of the escalator, gets to expirience it all over again. Through his son.
*sweet*
ReplyDeleteprecis så är det!