When It All Works Out

My brain was swirling a mile a minute recently when a small child jumped off the rush hour commuter train we were both on and declared, with enthusiasm, “see, it all worked out!”

I paused my music and looked around. Did nobody else share his joy? Could I share his joy? I eyed the group of serious professional people on their ways to their serious professional jobs, dressed up and holding briefcases or already talking into their headphones. Of which I was one.

But with this whimsical disruption—this small child breaking through the noise—I found myself thinking that it actually would all work out.

And, in fact, maybe it already had.