Every day my community makes me, enough said. The man with no headphones blasting Jagged Edge on the bus makes me more forgiving (hopefully, one day, but I’m cool about it since I love this song). The woman riding the gold line north and her screaming toddler make me smile in spite of myself, I remembered what it was like to find my voice, and the young lady makes a great point: I do want to go home and have a snack right now. The man sleeping in the back of the train car makes me, too. He makes me remember what it means to be held and rocked gently to sleep. I do my homework on the train, riddled with pen marks as we lurch together into the day, a testament to making a mess rather than making nothing at all. I like to think I make them, too. The people, the messes, the sleeping, the noise, and the music.