Dear Little Girl

From the intersection of Rama IV and Si Phraya Road

Yesterday was an oddly exceptional day. I was at a crossroads waiting for the light to change. The shape of the intersection was oddly acute so we were a small crowd. There was a little girl with her father, she was maybe 3? 4? She was holding her dad’s hand on the right side and, without looking, reached up to grab the hand of the adult closest to her on the left - mine. To my own credit, I didn’t freak out and yank my hand away, shooting eye daggers at whatever creepazoid would dare. I’d seen her out of the corner of my eye so when she slipped her hand in mine, I just held it back.

We all shared a small laugh at what happened. Hoho how charming. Except the little girl. She looked confused for a second and then mildly irritated, her tiny brow furrowing.

Why didn’t I tell her it was okay, that I didn’t mind? Why didn’t I take out my stupid ear bud, squat down, and ask her her name? I feel like something happened to her in that moment, something irrevocable to her complete innocence. It occurred to me from her expression that maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe this young thing, a brand-new person who thinks cartoons and puppets are as real as you and I, who makes instant friends with other kids by sheer virtue of their human kid similarities, who doesn’t know the dark and dangerous things of this world…Maybe she just wanted to hold my hand.

It might’ve been one of three times in my entire life I wish I had a daughter of my own.

I hope she stays this way for a while longer - whether she’d meant to do it or not. I hope her dad makes her feel so safe, she continues to trust without reservation. And I hope whenever she reaches out her hand, there is always someone there who will simply take it.