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By THE NEW YORK TIMES Dear Diary: |
My husband, son and I were on a Q train from Brooklyn to Manhattan. The car was fairly crowded, and we had to stand near one of the poles. |
A young girl who was sitting next to her father leaned over to him. She might have been about 8. |
“This train is really old,” I heard her whisper into his ear. |
A young man of perhaps 22 with hair dyed bright yellow was standing nearby. |
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, “I couldn’t help overhear. But did you know they started making this train when my grandfather was a boy?” |
Other passengers started to smile. |
“And now they put them into the ocean when they’re done with them,” the young man added. |
“Yeah,” someone else said. “They grow reefs in them!” |
People started to nod in agreement. |
“Your hair is golden!” an older woman shouted to the young man. |
He laughed. |
“My friends and I had a little bit too much fun last night and this is what happened,” he said. “My mom’s going to kill me.” |
“Well, I think you look spunky,” the older woman said. |
— Suzanne Pettypiece |
Illustrated by Agnes Lee. |
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