Dear _____,

Today I encountered a man on the subway who questioned the definition of "schlep" written on my bag. I want to note that today is the first time I have used said bag. After debating whether or not "schlep" on his own was written in Hebrew or Yiddish, I accepted a tissue he offered for my sniffling nose. As I was leaving the train I thanked him and he wished me shabbat shalom. Taken aback I said, "you too" in a tone as if I was asking "how did you know?"

Waiting for the next train I mulled over this "random" chance happening, wondering how many people experience these moments daily. I also couldn't help but think if his shabbat shalom goodbye was his way of saying "hey, I'm Jewish too" and all the urges I get to somehow relate Jewishly to chareidi men and women I see on the train. I often find myself searching for my little book of Tehillim that I usually have left at home, knowing that if only I could read a few chapters with the fervor of a yeshiva girl I might win their favor.

Remember that story you told me once? About how a religious man came to the office and for whatever reason something not so ideal happened. And because you are who you are, you wanted to do everything you could to fix it. And after all was said and done, and you knew he would still leave with a bad taste in his mouth, you wished him shabbat shalom as he went on his way. You also joked that it wasn't even on Thursday, that it was probably on a Monday but you wanted to let him know somehow you had something in common.

It's winter in New York. I'm writing this without gloves, my body shaking and fingers frozen from the cold. And I wish I could ask you to re-tell that story just one more time, but instead I'll think about how I'm in one of the most wonderful cities in the world, and even I can't see the beauty of the Empire State Building.