I rode the train today.

And watched the long, limp, limbs of the three year old boy-child across the aisle wrap into the lap of his mother.

Wheels and i-pods and doors open closing to the beat of the announcer’s voice. And a boy sleeping deep. His head bob-rocking against his mother’s breast; his braids splayed across her shoulder. Beauty breathed deep and slow and at peace on the 3:10 train to Eastern Market today.

Mother and son, and then me watching and watching and wanting to climb into their peace.

It made me feel hungry and satisfied at the same time.

She shifts him into her side and his soft body yields. We watch, me and the other passengers. We watch under cover of newspapers and iphones, our eyes returning again and again to this sacred moment unfolding on an otherwise mundane Thursday afternoon.

That bond between mother and child. That bond crackles with truth so deep that it electrifies anyone within range. We rock alongside them as the train runs its daily rut and we all transcend it for a moment.

We all bear witness to what the Creator has designed. Selfless, unselfconscious trust. One body tenderly supporting another.

And it is so very, very good.


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