It was Christmastime in Montreal. A mainly French speaking place in Canada where I now call home.

The shops were also aglow and so was I. My little son and I were doing shopping for the dear close to us and my family so far away.

My soirée was closing down like shops all around me and of course as the sun was starting to set, things looked different. I knew I was in a different country. I was in a foreign place and my French consisted of do you speak English and shut up because my mom would say it joking around.

Someone called me over in my native English language and being a lost mom, my language never sounded so good.

However, my rescuer was not well dressed and it was apparent he was homeless. What choice did I have?

So I followed him and I tried to see him as a normal person. A ledge strangely appeared out of no where. I started talking to him. I prayed with him as I would my kid. Tears rolled down his face. You see me as a person, he said. I gave him some cash for food he promised.