Train Rides.

I begin to look at the people entering and exiting the train. Watching the faces of people getting to where they need to go. The hustle and bustle of New York as people hit the pavement and begin their day just as I have began mine. They all have stories, stories that I won't be able to figure out just by looking at them and so I look away. Closing my eyes I began to imagine how good of a mother this one woman must be, two children under five wrapped in layers and Vaseline. A white woman with a travel bag just leaving Trader Joes on her way to a soup kitchen to share the items or to her own home to restock her shelves? A black boy with his hoody up blasting music probably on his way to a class final. I think about the image I leave with people when they see me. Can they tell that I'm in love? That I'm scared? Do they look me in my eyes and see all my fears, as I believe I can see theirs? I wonder what these strangers see because I look them straight into their souls and I wonder do they do the same. The woman with the two children gets off the train. Her daughter turns and smiles at me. "Have a good day babe, stay warm,” I say without hesitation, because I will remember her and know that she has left an imprint on my soul.