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?