My Caretaker Jacky Lam

As a native of New York City, my use of the subway system is an inevitable aspect of life. By the age of five, riding the subway was not a new phenomenon for me. Day after day, I went many places with my mother and sister. Although these places remain vague in my memory, the recollection of my sister rescuing me in the mass transit system remains quite vivid.

During the middle of one hot summer day, my mother, sister, and I were waiting for the F train to arrive. However, the much slower D train appeared first. The two train tunnels were on opposite sides of the platform, and my mother suggested that we go on the D train instead. Characterized by unwariness as a child, I ran into the train with much abandon. I scrambled to find the nearest seat in the middle of the train facing the window. A pile of regurgitated watermelon was lying on the floor in front of me. (The recollection of its repulsively pungent odor will never leave my mind.) Looking out the window, I wondered why my sister and mom were taking so long to come. As the doors closed, my sister noticed that I was in the train without them. Without uttering a single word, she pulled my mother’s hand and sprinted for the door. As the door closed in on her, she and my mother...