I took the escalator up to the third floor, set on getting my shopping done. And there he was again, trying to keep up with his mother’s fast pace, still talking about what he called the “that.”

“But Mommy, I really wanna try it! It’s sooo fun!” he informed her, with all the wisdom of a child who had never ridden on it. I hurried along, barely casting another glance at the mother-son duo.

Five minutes later, I made my way down the escalator. He was already in the lobby, all the way at the bottom, watching the escalator come down, down, down, as if in a trance.

“Look, Mommy, people are coming down!” He could barely contain his bursting joy.

I watched his tiny body jump up and down with sheer, unadulterated happiness. When it was time for someone to step off, he puckered his brows in concentration, as if helping this unknown stranger in taking the step. As each passenger emerged from this weird contraption onto solid ground, he giggled with relief.

My heart thumped wildly. The innocence of the display left an unwanted lump forming in my throat. There was something so mesmerizingly persistent about this little being.

“You really want to try it, Moishy, don’t you?” I heard the woman ask.

“Yes.” That one word held so much childish longing, it sent chills up my spine. I stepped off the escalator and started walking to the exit.

“I’d take you.” She seemed genuinely distraught for her little boy. “But I’d need someone to watch the baby….”

I pushed the door open and left. I wasn’t in a particular hurry. Something told me to turn around, to offer to watch the baby. To let the little boy take his first ride up an escalator. But I didn’t. It felt stupid to speak up. Why was I listening to their conversation in the first place? Besides, there were so many people around, and she’d easily find someone else to do it for her. She definitely would. Or would she?

I walked home, my heart still hammering in my chest. I was left with a sour taste in my mouth and a despairing sense of failure. Tears pricked my eyes. I had failed. A young child needed me to brighten up his world, and I had shirked my duty. How could I?

For a moment, I’d been granted entry to the unguarded joys of childhood, the rivers of life flowing wild and free in a little boy. To his face, lit up with the enthusiasm that followed the new and unexpected. To his pulse, beating with the drums of adventure.

But social norms held sway in me, over the attention that wonder deserved.

I said today is a day of regret. As I close my eyes and lie back in my bed, I can hear his giggles ringing in my ears, his big eyes begging for a chance to experience this unknown adventure.

I open my eyes and sigh.

And I daven for another chance.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 952)