NYC sidewalk story

From an eighth-story window I could see them as they made their way down the city sidewalk. A boy and his mother, she with his scooter wedged under her arm toy in hand, walked a few steps behind him.

The boy, who seconds earlier had been running, slowed then stood as if towed to a stop by his curiosity. Even from the distance he appeared spellbound by a man mounting his bike rack to the back of a car. Without urgency his mom caught up, she too stopped not so close as to hover but with space enough for him to study, think, observe.

His finger pointed to the bike rack—and for a split second he turned to his mother—I imagined his breath in the cold air swirling with question marks, his eyes locked back on the apparatus. She took a step forward while the toy in her hand moved in time with what unmistakably could have only been the cadence of her response. In a flash, his thirst for information now quelled, he trotted behind her and away from the man.

My gaze was fixed on them…just as they began to approach the corner his arms shot up into the air; she turned, stepped toward him and in a swoop to her knees lifted him into the crook of her free arm. Heads nestled together she—and her lovely load, disappeared round the bend.