Some mornings, I walk past the same faces… and it’s like I’m invisible. 

Some mornings, I walk past the same faces… and it’s like I’m invisible. 
Not because I did something wrong—just because my hands smell like the field and my family lives off the land. 

People smile at polished words, clean shoes, city routines.
But they don’t see the early alarms, the tired eyes, the quiet pride of someone who helps put food on their table. 

I used to think I had to “be different” to deserve a hello.
Now I’m learning this: dignity doesn’t need permission. 
And a simple greeting can be the kindest thing you give someone today.