By Dwight Hobbes
It's one of those things that are heartwarming even while it's heartbreaking. I'm on the bus, watching this lovely young lady and her baby. The lady, actually, is a teenager. Between 16 and, well, let's just say that if she was much beyond 17-years-old that would be pushing it. And the child, maybe three-years-old, tops. She's clean and well-dressed; and so is her baby. She looks at me and I stop staring, fishing in my shoulder bag to go through my mail.