The story of how I met Camha will always stay in my heart. Last fall, as I was walking past the Greyhound station in downtown, I saw this lady laying on the sidewalk with a thin blanket. What I noticed first was her beautiful, endearing eyes, and then the dirty hospital socks she was wearing, no shoes. I offered to buy her breakfast, so I took her to a McDonald’s on the corner.
She didn’t say much, but she smiled at me a lot, and she wouldn’t eat unless I ate with her. I wasn’t able to communicate much with her, and I wondered whether it was a language barrier or something else. But there was a sweetness about her, like she reminded me of an aunt. I asked her if she had an ID, and luckily she understood what I meant. Later that night, I posted her story on my personal Facebook page and I included a photo of her ID. That’s when the magic happened. A lot of my friends on Facebook begin to do some research, and found out that she was reported missing in San Francisco. (How she ended up in LA will always be a mystery). The next day I found her in the same spot. I was able to get in touch with her family and social worker, and then I got her a bus ticket back to San Francisco. 
The bus wasn’t departing until the evening, so I stayed with her until she got on. While we were waiting, I took her to buy some shoes and dinner, of course she was trying to feed me. 
Throughout the day I was constantly updating my Facebook page with her situation. So many of my wonderful friends wished her the best, even in her native Vietnamese. I showed her my friends’ comments on Facebook with my laptop, which I think she got a kick out of. 
The next few hours we sat together at the Greyhound terminal watching movies on YouTube. When she finally got on the bus, I found a fellow passenger that agreed to watch over her, to make sure she didn’t get off the bus until they arrived in San Francisco. I was both happy and sad to see her go, as I bonded with her. And then the following day, I was elated to receive a call from her social worker that Camha was safe and sound.
Here is Camha in 1972 (two years before I was born), this photo was provided by one of her family members.
