The Heart of a Child

It's crazy to think that I'll only have two more days left in London after today! Time is really dwindling down and there is still so much left to do here that won't be done. Granted, there's only so much of a city like London that you can see, but you often find yourself wishing that you could have done everything in the short span of months and days that you were in Europe, everything from travelling to more countries to seeing museums to learning more about the history and stories behind artists' masterpieces.

Still, I'm thankful for the time that I have had here and I know that this will not be the last time London has its streets graced with my presence. Heehee.

Something that has come to mind lately, though, is the recognition of moments that brightened my days here. Most of them occurred in a tube station or on the tube itself and, somehow, as I sit here letting my fingers take the flow from my brain onto the screen as I listen to the spring rain fall outside the Victorian windows, it's easy to reflect. Every time any child smiled at me on the tube, it made my day. It's nearly inexplicable and may sound mildly creepy, but there were moments where my spirits was lifted above their present state because of their simple actions. Two instances stand out in particular. The first was on the way back from church one Sunday. A family of four, a boy of eight and a girl of 11 and their parents, had just gotten onto the tube and were looking for places to sit. The boy sat down across from me and the girl started to move toward him to sit beside him, but then saw me and backed up. I started to get up and asked her if she'd like to sit down. Her brace-clad smile shyly shone back at me as she dipped her head downward and politely declined. The next stop came and I got up to leave, passing her on the way out. She looked up at me for a half second and smiled with a quiet joy as if I was leaving the train car just for her to sit down. The bright innocence that radiated from her face still haunts me. The second instance was today at Lillywhite's department store in Piccadilly Circus. As I browsed the jerseys and footballs (soccer balls), a boy who looked like he was about 10 walked up to his mother for no good reason (she hadn't bought him anything yet) and gave her the wettest, longest and most beautiful kiss on the cheek. The smile that split across her face when he pulled back was inimitable. Then she kissed him back on the cheek and the entire situation was reversed.

Moments like these restore my faith in a loving humanity, in a compassion that will not die with time, in chivalry and in the pure joy that we see so little of. This is why we love to love. This is why we should live to love.