To the little grandmother with short, curly hair and a peach-colored shirt, sitting on the 913 this morning:

I have no idea if you even use the computer or know about missed connection boards. 

I was the girl to your left with thin black hair with long bangs and the rainbow tattoo on my right wrist. 

I wanted to tell you how strongly and permanently you touched my heart when we unexpectedly had to stop and you grabbed my arm instinctively. I could tell it wasn’t to steady yourself, but to protect me. I could tell because I had never felt that before. 

I grew up without a mother, without grandparents. I really don’t want to say more on here. I wanted so badly to thank you before you got off at Elm, but it was everything I had just to block the rising sorrow in my chest. 

Thank you for helping me heal – even if just a bit – just by being yourself. 

Really. Thank you. 

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