The Bus

The colors outside sing to your senses, a pleasant blur as the city passes by. You lean your head against the window, taking what feels like your first deep breath of the day. Finally, after a too tight deadline, an overbearing boss, and gossipy coworkers, you were on your way home. The bus is full as usual, seats filled with standing room only. You can’t help but to think how lucky you are to have gotten a window seat.

Next to you, a middle-aged woman snores gently, her head creeping slowly down towards your shoulder. Her hands and fingers are chafed from soapy water and cleaning chemicals, her uniform laying limp against her skin. For only a moment, here on this bus, she takes time for herself, the lines smoothing from her face as she gives way to rest. You wonder idly how many children she’s trying to put through college, how many mouths are waiting at home to be fed. You tap her shoulder gently as the bus comes to a stop, her eyes opening groggily in confusion for but a moment before she is a flurry of movement. You offer her a smile as she rushes to gather her things and exit, hurrying away from one job and seemingly to another.

At the woman’s exit the bus falls quiet save for some agitated mumbling from the seat in front of you. The boy pleads over the phone, eyes darting to and fro amongst his fellow passengers in seeming embarrassment. The voice on the line is loud, piercing your ears even from the seat behind him. The hapless boy seems to have missed an important date and he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. He’s bordering on whining as he tries to console her, offering promises of sweet treats of future dates. You can hear it in his voice, see it on his face when she relents, his face finally relaxing into an indulgent half smile. Voice sweet as honey, he bids her goodnight, slumping back into his seat. Crisis averted, he puts in his headphones, turning his music to full blast. You cannot tell if the bus ride is simply bumpy or if he is bopping his head along to the music.

Near the front of the bus a man sits with his two daughters. Both girls are dressed alike, mismatched socks and drooping ponytails, the work of a frazzled father and not a meticulous mother. The oldest sits quietly, eyes never leaving the ‘Get Well Soon’ balloon grasped tightly in her hand. The younger, however, moves with unbridled energy, scrambling from her seat to watch out the window as the buildings pass by. Her mouth opens in wonder, quietly recounting what she sees to her father standing beside her. The man looks on with tired eyes but a fond smile, worry evident in the crease between his eyebrows. Nevertheless, he indulges her, feigning excitement as the little one gives him details about the dog we just passed. The older girl sighs, reprimanding her sister to be quiet, her calm demeanor giving her years she certainly doesn’t possess yet. She practically glows as her father pats her head, sending her a wink. As the bus reaches his stop, he takes both girls by the hand, gingerly leading the towards home while balancing the pharmacy bag on his wrist.

The boy in front of you has once again turned his music up, ruining whatever chance he once had at not wearing hearing aids at age 60. You chuckle to yourself, able to hear enough of the song to know that it was one just released and one that was quickly becoming your new favorite. The bus around you is bathed in twilight as you listen, the words calming as they play out in your head. As tired as you are, you know you cannot nap, an aftereffect of falling asleep once on the bus and completely missing your stop. You had ended up at the end of the line and walked home, an experience you wouldn’t soon forget.

So, you prop your head up once again on the window, watching as the city, your city, passes by. 

It had been a risk to move here. Raised in a small town, the bustling city scared your parents, words of caution and fear ever on their tongues. But you’d never quite fit in in that rural area, always wishing for more but never quite knowing what that ‘more’ was. Your heart had thrummed with excitement on your first visit to the city, seemingly finally recognizing where it belonged; where it was made to be. After that trip you’d worked your butt off, working night and day to make your dream a reality. Luck had been on your side, interceding for you in an almost impossible situation to make a way. Two years ago you’d said goodbye to your family home, taking only a suitcase and your plant Boo onto a plane to begin your new life. On the bad days, you struggle with being so far from your family. On the good days, you feel like Queen of the World. 

The city is always moving, filled with life at all hours of the day. You like that on nights when you can’t sleep you can go down to the coffee shop on the corner for a sandwich. You like that on one block, one culture is strong and represented, but one block down it’s like whole other country. And you like that in this sea of people, you are never truly alone. 

You smile to yourself, eyes returning to the landscape outside. The sun is getting ready to set, bathing the buildings and sky in a cacophony of colors. Reds, pinks, and oranges settle on the skyscrapers, reflecting their beauty down onto the passerby. You watch as one person stops mid-crosswalk to admire the view, face turned up towards the clouds in awe. Your heart is full, and although you too are exhausted, you know it to be worth it.

And as you sit on the bus, surrounded by different lives and stories, you can’t help but to think once again about how lucky you are.