The late-afternoon sun softened over Delap Park on Saturday, turning the whole place into a canvas of color and laughter. Children raced across the grass with ride tickets clenched in their hands, volunteers guided little ones up the water slide, and from the carousel came an endless chorus of squeals and giggles. For a moment, it felt like Majuro had its own little Christmas.
As Executive Director of the Pacific Media Institute (PMI), I felt grateful seeing the joy around us - joy made possible through the efforts of PMI, the ECD Program, the World Bank, and UNICEF. Parents held babies on their hips, older kids chased bubbles in the breeze, and the whole park pulsed with the kind of happiness only children can generate.
And then, in the middle of all that noise, I noticed a quiet, tender moment.
A young father stood alone by the carousel, watching his two daughters ride the wooden horses. No partner beside him, no phone in hand. Just a man fully present for his children. Each time the girls passed him, he raised his hand in a proud wave, his smile widening with every lap. Their joy was his joy.
When the ride slowed to a stop, the youngest girl leaned toward him and shouted with all the confidence in her tiny heart,
“I love you, Daddy!”
Her sister echoed her instantly.
The father pressed his hand to his chest, caught off guard by the force of the moment. His voice trembled slightly as he answered,
“I love you too.”
What struck me most was not just the sweetness of the exchange, but the language.
In Marshallese culture, affection is often shown through presence, care, and acts of support. The word “iakwe” is rich with meaning - “you matter to me,” “you are important,” “I care about you.”
But children shouting “I love you” - in English, out loud, in a public place — is rare. It is a precious blending of cultures, a new generation finding its own way to express the deepest human emotion.
And somehow, that made the moment even more powerful.
Amid the carnival rides and celebrations, what I witnessed was the heart of World Children’s Day - a reminder that while we create safe spaces for children to play, the truest celebration happens in the relationships that shape them. In their arms they run in after the ride stops. In the words they dare to speak. In the love that holds them steady.
Long after the music fades and the park grows quiet, I will remember that father and his daughters - not because of the carousel or the glitter of the day, but because in one simple exchange, they showed us what love looks like in the Marshall Islands today: rooted in culture, expressed in new ways, and always, always made visible through the care of family.