I carried a list of resources, a plan for keeping my prescriptions accessible, and a small card with a number I could call if I felt unsafe.

On the sidewalk, a young woman pushed a stroller past us.

Her little boy dropped a mitten.

She stooped to pick it up and laughed when he tried to hand it back to her.

I found myself watching them with such sadness that tears finally came.

Nina waited while I cried.

She didn’t say it was good or bad.

She just stood beside me until I was ready to move.