I was out walking downtown at lunch today. Traffic was heavy and the sidewalks were full of people trying to get somewhere and back inside an hour.
A man was walking ahead of me, and for a moment I thought he was alone. Then I saw the little girl behind him. Maybe three. Maybe not quite.
She had an iPad in both hands and her face in it. Her feet were moving, but she wasn’t watching where they took her. He was a good eight to ten feet ahead and not looking back.
What caught me off guard was how angry I got, and how fast.
I watched for about a minute, which is all I know of him. At the corner he turned, took her hand, and walked her across. He hadn’t forgotten she was there.
Fifteen years ago that was my son on a sidewalk, and he was in my line of sight every second we were near a street. Most of the time he was in my arms. My wife was the same way.
I wasn’t imagining the worst. A three-year-old doesn’t have judgment yet, so for a few years I had to be his. Arm’s reach is what that looks like on a sidewalk.
That’s what the minute pulled out of me. Her attention was on the screen, so she had none left for the street, and eight feet is a long way when you’re that small. Somebody has to supply what she doesn’t have yet.
My son is eighteen. He graduated this spring. Nobody carries him anywhere anymore, and that was the point of all the carrying. We held him close while he couldn’t judge for himself so that one day he could.
I think that’s why I noticed her at all, and why the anger came up so fast. I’m on the other side of the carrying now. It went by faster than I expected.
I hope she gets carried for as long as she needs it.
