Yesterday: a chatty little girl sits and stares out of the window of the MRT train, into the tunnel that the train chased. She points a tiny finger to something she sees and tells her daddy: Rainbows! There in the sky! She refers to the bands of light that, following the contour of the tunnel, forms arcs like rainbows.
That's not a rainbow, her father says.
That's when another little girl comes onboard. She is older, though not old. Maybe eight, probably younger. She plays and laughs with the younger child, as if she were an adult, amused by the simpleness of a child's mind. She speaks like a grown-up to the father, in tone and in manner.
Be careful, her head is so small it will break on the glass. And the glass will be in her head and she cannot remember.
I don't hear what the father says. But his voice is level and calm. The train reaches Serangoon and they all get ready to alight. The girl continues her grown-up questions.
Where are you going? I'm getting off here as well. I'm going to Serangoon Gardens.
The father speaks to her like a grown-up as well.
I don't know where her mother is taking her but her mother wants to take her somewhere.
Then they get off. I hope that that precocious young girl continues being old for her age, outspoken, confident. She's off to a good start.
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