Seen on the Train

I am on the train today. It is actually moving. Yesterday morning was a whole different story. I literally had to walk through a train tunnel and climb out and find a way to get to court. Today, the train is moving.

There is a man taking up almost the whole bench, and he is sleeping. He has his sneakers off on front of him, and he is curled up on the bench. Most people are avoiding him and this side of the train car. I sit across from him. As my eyes dance around the train while I listen to a podcast about gut mucus, the doors open and a man with a ponytail walks up to the sleeping man and sticks a bundle of money in his curled hand, and he walks out.

I was moved by this. This man gave to someone who didn’t even ask. He wasn’t even awake. The man on the bench will wake up later and wonder how the wad of money ended up in his hand. This man defined what it is like to be seen. The man with the ponytail was the see-er. He saw him. He didn’t avoid him. He came close. And that was beautiful.

I think God sees us and comes close in the same way. We are seen. And hopefully, we can be like that ponytail man and see others, too.


A bit later, before I hopped off, the man woke up slightly. His hand tightened, and he then felt the wad of cash. He rubbed his eyes and looked. His expression changed. He clutched the money tightly and held it to his heart as he drifted back asleep.

Published by Gabriela Yareliz

Gabriela is a writer, editor and attorney. She loves the art of storytelling, and she is based in NYC.

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