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The cars grumbled throughout the streets of San Jose. Commuters comfortably packed next to each other enduring some of the remaining chilly wind that was still brushing around in the beginning of March. Although people were still walking outside, some teenagers but more often adults, traveled around the suburb using well known public transportation systems such as the buses, and more notably, the light rail trains. Those fortunate enough to own vehicles had no trouble escaping the cold day. Many though exposed to the air, waited patiently for their transportation on the partially yellow painted concrete platforms as they purchased their tickets, took a seat on benches, browsed their phones, or simply gazed at the air. I had also been gazing at the air, but instead, in a comfortable seat within my mother’ car that housed a heater continuously blowing warm air. The toasty seat fluffily hugged my bottom along with its accompanying seat belt which comfortably and firmly tugged me to sit still and embrace the warm briskly flowing air. I couldn’t have been in a better spot. But unlike the warmth of my surroundings, I had been frozen in thoughts.
Applying for colleges felt very distant about six months ago, but the recent months had made the wait for responses increasingly nerve wracking. Four or so responses made me sick to my stomach, and so I anxiously anticipated the day that’d allow me to jump for joy or do something that could warm me up in these cold days. But in my continuous waiting, I of course had missed the one and only opportunity that might have secured myself a shot at attending a school. An offer for a waiting list patiently waited for me, sitting for a few weeks within my piling email box. And upon checking and filtering the mass pile of emails in hopes of finding any encouraging news, the chance to sign up for a spot had been already been overdue for a couple of days. A rabid thought of regret constantly circled in my mind and led me down a path of wandering thought with no clear direction. Soon, I would be joining another cold platform to proceed to the second half of my trip home from school as my mother did not have all the time in the day to drive me around during her craftily requested lunch break.
The temporarily warm trip eventually slowed to a stop next to a sidewalk, introducing a blue roofed, light sign covered light rail train station across the street. As blinking yellow lights hurriedly signaled me to leave the cozy vehicle, I hesitatingly stepped out into the cold air. A swift wind snapped my attention back into reality, and so I quickly strode to the tall rectangular blinking machine sitting on the concrete platform in the middle of the station and purchased my small paper ticket for the light rail train. Giving myself enough time to relax for the next light rail train, I welcomed myself to the benches. The wind continued to brush against all the people waiting at the border of the platforms and I could feel the cold breeze rush up my body shaking my arms and legs. I wanted to calm myself but another chill rode down my back. My mind couldn’t help but wander back into clouds of regret and scorn for my careless mistake. I sat still sinking deeper into thoughts, and more harsh corrections incessantly poked at my mind until the wind began brushing off cold droplets from my eyes. Was I overwhelmed? Whatever it was, the wind redirected my attention once again. Someone had been continuously calling out to me. It did not take long to realize that a person was right next to me, and I had tears streaming down my flushed red face while my nose ran. Immediately trying to wipe off the embarrassing look on my face, I began to clearly see who was standing next to me. A tall, burly, and rugged faced Latino man had been speaking to me. His skin a deep but soulful brown was heavily marked with tattoos on his arms. His long hair tied up in a ponytail displayed a fair amount of white and almost gray strands poking out of the majority of his black flowing hair. I sat with a fixed look trying to remember what he had been asking me, but I couldn’t help but move my hands protectively, having rarely talked to a stranger on the way home, nevertheless a big burly person who looked capable of fighting. I continued to think until I heard his deep voice that I thought surprisingly lacked any accent. He simply asked, “Hi buddy, would you mind telling me what time is it?”. Sitting there I did not whip out my phone to check the time, but instead, I attempted to guess the time based on the amount of sunlight. Timidly but feeling compelled to reply to his light-hearted question when I had not been paying attention, I responded and told him three o’clock. Immediately his face and voice relaxed, giving off a sense of relief. He told me that he was very thankful because he had been asking the people around him for some time, but they all ignored him or tried to turn away when he asked them. Finally receiving a response cheered him up after being brushed away repeatedly.
The man then quickly walked past me to cross the street and continue on his way. Realizing my unreasonable judgements about him, I had to tell him the time again. Remorsefully and swiftly pulling out my phone, I glanced at the time, quickly turned around and called out to the soft spoken man crossing the street, this time telling him the correct time. It was half past three, which wasn’t quite that far from three, but I felt a new warmth as the man had spoken to me. Unwinding all my worries about my future that I had been so wrapped up in, I felt a new comfort realizing that the man could find such a peace of mind despite having experienced constant denial, nonetheless based on his appearance. Here I was worrying too much about what occurred recently when the man I spoke with continued to ask despite probably dealing with preconceived ideas from people throughout his whole life. It seemed ridiculous to realize that I put such an emphasis on thoughts that almost feel petty and realize that the man I spoke with displayed a peace of mind as he confidently faced his own concerns. If the man had been capable of that, I could feel the same strength and encouragement to not be disheartened quite yet. The light rail train shortly arrived after. Wiping away any thoughts of sadness and anxiety, I found new warmth in sharing the confidence that the man had held. Stepping into the train, I could no longer feel same cold air.