2-15-09

i gave up my seat on the chinatown bus to a woman with a baby in her arms and a small child by her side. she was going to have the older child sit alone, next to me, when i made the offer to move so they could all sit together.
the baby she held was all bundled up in blankets it took me a minute to realize what it was she had in her arms. during the trip, the baby cried off and on, and she held the bundle of blankets and rocked her body against the seat to comfort it. it was a very ordinary gesture in a very ordinary scenario. i really noticed the tiny voice crying and the way she tried to calm the voice down. i thought to myself about the baby photos i was looking through last week. the way my mom held me. my dad too in these photos. i thought of all that care, all that time that happened before i could remember it. i thought how now i am so big, old, so far from being a baby anyone would hold if it cried. the thought started as 'i'll never be a little baby like that again' and turned into 'i am no longer anyone's child' it was a heavy lonely realization i had sitting behind that woman. i am a grandchild, i am a friend, i am housemate--the list continues. but i will never be anyone's child. it feels like such a sudden shift. i suppose there is no way it could've happened gradually. i just wonder how long it will take for this to be as normal as the past 30 years of being a kid, both a daughter and later a son. will it be another 30 years? will i become enough other things-some sort of professional holding a title, a long term partner with someone else, someone in a child's life--that it won't feel so hard to no longer be anyone's child in the world.