The homeless man on BART reminds me of my Abuelito. He is lean and dark with small eyes. He holds out a beige hunting cap and everyone but me turns away or acts as if he does not exist. But I see him so I reach out. How could I not?

I fear new possibilities. There are so many before me: new relationships, new challenges. I could pretend they are not there and stay wounded. But I always reach out. No experience of pain has ever stayed my hand. So I move forward.