Pushing a cart down a sidewalk, there was room for two, but you said, “Excuse me,” just to let me know, “I see you.”

Gathered around the table, you brushed into me, but you said, “Sorry,” so that I felt seen.

Talking in the living room, called by a different name, and later, you addressed it, though others might have called it lame.

Little gestures that show me you know that I know.

You see me — this is not the way life always goes.