Train ride on our way somewhere: we sit opposite a Japanese mother with a young girl and a baby boy.
The young girl – maybe 5 or 6 – watches us as we chatter away, as usual. She smiles.
‘She likes you,’ I say to him. ‘She’s looking at you.’
He smiles back and waves at her. She beams.
‘Shall we make her day?’ I ask, as I reveal to him a clown nose in my little blue purse.
‘Go for it,’ he says.
So I put on the clown nose, and he and I engage in a strange little exchange, throwing around noises and words, gestures and movements, facing toward, facing away to the window and back again. We are exhilarated. We are exasperated. We are arguing. We are agreeing. We are joining hands. We are making plans. We are rolling eyes and spitting sounds and holding our breath and taking breaks and taking chances and trying things out. And she is watching.
It’s our stop. We get up from our seats, and I remove my clown nose as we head toward the door.
‘Look,’ he says. And the young girl and her mother and her baby brother have turned around in their seats and they are so joyful. We exit the train and watch them from the window. They wave goodbye.
‘That was your professional Japanese clowning debut,’ he says.
‘Wonderful,’ I say. And the day continues.
Love it!
you should get a huge grant to travel around the world and do that :)
I totally agree!