He has on the raccoon tail hat that he always wears on the cold, gloomy days we get in Indiana during fall, like today. We make eye contact, but he doesn't say anything. I watch as he forces a melancholic smile upon his deeply worried, wrinkled face, carved from all the sun exposure from his job.

I don't say anything either. My fearful, wide eyed expression remains on my face, saying it all. We stand there for a beat and then he gives me a gentle pat on the back before turning to part ways. For a moment I close my eyes, trying to grab hold of the strength that I hope I have inside of me. I press forward.