Kiss Someone Before You Go
The subway train sways back and forth, its wheels screeching more fiendishly
than ever against the tracks. Outside the window the freezing cold of winter
rules and the dreary bay looks like a yawning abyss as the train rumbles
across it. The carriage is filled with frozen self-centered, bored passengers.
Good morning!
Suddenly a little boy pushes his way in between discourteous grown-up
legs - the kind that only grudgingly make room for you. While his father
stays by the door, the boy sits next to the window, surrounded by unfriendly,
morning-weary adults. What a brave child, I think. As the train enters
a tunnel, something totally unexpected and peculiar happens. The little
boy slides down from his seat and puts his hand on my knee. For a moment,
I think that he wants to go past me and return to his father, so I shift
a bit. But instead of moving on, the boy leans forward and stretches his
head up towards me. He wants to tell me something, I think. Kids! I bend
down to listen to what he has to say. Wrong again! He kisses me softly
on the cheek.
Then he returns to his seat, leans back and cheerfully starts looking
out of the window. But I'm shocked. What happened? A kid kissing unknown
grown-ups on the train? To my amazement, the kid proceeds to kiss all my
neighbors.
Nervous and bewildered, we look questioningly at his father, "He's so
happy to be alive," the father says. "He's been very sick."
The train stops and father and son get down and disappear into the crowd.
The doors close. On my cheek I can still feel the child's kiss - a kiss
that has triggered some soul-searching. How many grown-ups go around kissing
each other from the sheer joy of being alive? How many even give much thought
to the privilege of living? What would happen if we all just started being
ourselves?
The little boy had given us a sweet but serious slap in the face: Don't
let yourself die before your heart stops!