Bus Crush

It is always lovely to strike up a conversation with a stranger, even more lovely if it is an interesting and engaging conversation where each of you laughs, and loveliest of all if this stranger also happens to be madly good looking.

Looking at the suitcase at his feet I asked about his trip.  His excitement bubbles over, in town for a short while, he shares, and then asks what to see and do. I offer ideas.  As the bus rolls on we continue talking, we laugh together and I truly enjoy our conversation.

And then it happens.

The bus arrives at his stop, the door opens and out steps the stranger with a little bit of my heart.

Hats Off To You

It was packed on the train yesterday evening.  This is pretty common during the five o’clock hour.  People were standing in the isles and in the areas near the doors.

A young couple got on the train with a child in a stroller.  It seemed as if they had just come from shopping at the mall, the parents hands filled with bags and their young son wearing a paper hat with rabbit ears and the name of the shopping center emblazoned across the band.  The parents, juggling bags, each kept one hand on the stroller to keep it from rolling.

The young boy entertained himself by reaching up to feel the paper rabbit ears on his hat, giggling each time his hands closed around the ears.  Then, in one swift motion he knocked the hat from his head.

Without a blink, a fellow standing close by bent down, collected the hat and placed it back on the young boys head. So swift was the fellows reaction that the parents didn’t even notice.

For this simple kindness, this small but caring gesture, fellow train rider my hat is off to you

Must Be My Lucky Night

The driver for the bus I usually catch on my way home looks for me before he leaves the transit center.

I like this.

To catch this bus I take the train from my work to the transit center where I hop off the train, dash up then down a flight of stairs and make my way to the correct stop in this bus round-about.  Some nights, when getting off the train, I can see my bus sitting there, ready to go and I hope that it is my driver behind the wheel watching for me. It is awful to make it to the top of the stairs only to see the taillights of your bus pulling away.

“I was watching for you” he says as I get on, out of breath yet feeling very grateful.

“Thanks”, I say, “it must be my lucky night”.

We have this exchange most evenings, with him assuring me he is keeping an eye out for me and me expressing my thanks.

Last week, about mid-week, my driver told me it was his last week on this bus line.  He said he was switching to another route on Monday.  I ask what route and we talk about that line. I say I’ll look for him on his new route, that I ride that bus on occasion.

On Friday I catch the bus home as usual.  “I was watching for you” my driver says as I board.  “Yes, for the last time” I say and take my seat.

As people leave the bus many stop to say good-bye, it’s a bus full of regulars and he had been a good driver.

As we approach my stop I make my way to the front to say my goodbyes.  He holds a slip of paper out to me and says, “Here, I signed it, you do the same.  If we win you find me on the new route”.

I take the slip of paper and look at it, it’s a lottery ticket.  He’s handed me a lottery ticket.  He has signed the back.

“No”, I say, “Really? You want me to take this?” I ask.

“Yes, I signed it.  You sign it too”, he tells me.

“Look for me” he says

“I will” I promise and I leave the bus feeling very lucky.

An Intimate Act

While making my way to work this morning on the bus I observed a simple encounter,  just a moment long, but it has stayed with me.

An older woman and a young man were sitting opposite one another in the seats at the front of the bus that face the isle.  The woman appeared to be in her 70’s, gray hair was peeking out from under her cap and she carried a shopping bag.  The man was in his 20’s, he had loaded his bike on the bus before boarding and was dressed for riding.

Out of the blue the woman raised her leg, extended her foot in the direction of the young man and asked, “Will you tie my shoe for me?”

And he, without a moment of hesitation, replied, “Sure”, leaned forward and tied her shoe.

Reaching out to tie her shoe seemed such an intimate act.  There was something humble and kind and honest in his quick response and in the ease in which he took action.

And requesting such basic assistance made the woman seem both strong and fragile at the same time.

The bus arrived at a transit center and I gathered my bag and exited out the back, looking over my shoulder toward the front where the old woman and young man were sitting.

The young man bound out the front toward the rack where his bike was latched and the older woman remained on the bus continuing on to a further stop.

And I have spent the entire day thinking about the beauty of this one brief moment.