Saturday, February 16, 2008.

It was late in the night. Trudging my heavy file, chem textbook, bag and violin, I sat down with my friends at the MRT station.

The train pulled in.

I stood up, took all my stuff, bade my friends goodbye, and dragged myself over to the MRT door. And as I entered and got myself a seat, the young boy sitting beside my seat looked at me in a mixture of curiosity and wonder as I waved at my friends.

The door shut and the train began to move.

I continued waving at my friends, as they reciprocated the wave. And when I stopped waving (since they got out of sight), the little boy looked at me.

He asked, "Why are you still waving?"

Quite softly, I replied, never mind. I guessed, he wouldn't understand all of these.

He stared at me still, with that curious look on his young, pale face. Even as I took out my homework and headset, he still eyed my every move. Not the tiger-watching-its-prey look, but the innocent, curious look of someone who wants to learn.

As the train raced into the MRT station, he got up, and with the excitement I used to have, told his parents, it's this stop. Get off, he said.

He ran off, and as the train door closed, he turned back. At that instant, for some inexplicable reason, I looked up amidst all my homework. Our eyes connected, and he gave me a gentle, small but significant wave.

And as I waved back at the small boy, through him, I saw myself in him, the younger me that had departed from me long ago, and must have entered thousands of other boys just like him.

I guess he finally understood why I waved back at my friends. I guess too, that when he grows up, he will probably never remember me, just like how I won't remember him. But at least this will remain somewhere in my heart (and his too), the innocence of a small boy that has long left my world.

Labels: Life