Bus
I don't when it was that I became so...so...so fearless. Don't get me wrong. I still am afraid of falling and heights and falling in love. But when it comes to the city bus and travelling I become this other person.
I live ten minutes driving from work. But because I don't have a car anymore it takes me forty- five minutes to an hour on the public transit system. Normally what I do is walk to the corner at 6 a.m., Sunday through Thursday, get a coffee, and stand on the corner to wait for the 77 or the 17. Whichever comes first. On the corner where the 17 comes, every morning there is an old man who trembles and is soft spoken. If it's raining violently he stands to the side to let everyone else on before him. He carries a plastic shopping bag that crinkles and sounds like a tiny river when he trembles. He's small and carries his shoulders rounded and hunched, so no one can get in.
On the corner where the 77 comes there's a lady with a limp and a cane. Her name is Gail and she is handicapped and takes care of her mother. Every morning she gets on the bus and rides 20 miles outside the city to take care of her mom. She doesn't like living in this part of town because of all the "homosexuals" but she lives cheaply so she doesn't complain much.
The other day I got on the 17 and my little rain man (as I've dubbed him) wasn't there. We both get off the bus on 5th and Everett and wait for another bus, but since he wasn't there I went it alone. During this time of the morning and on this particular corner I am always aware of my surroundings. I was standing there alone when an old black woman came across the street and headed straight for me. She asked me for a cigarette and I told her I didn't have another one. I don't open my bag for anything downtown. She stood there and stared at me for a few seconds and turned away. It was raining, I was tired, and it was 545 a.m. I just didn't feel good. I looked over to the corner where she was standing and I saw her crying. She started yelling that I didn't know who she was. Didn't I understand who she was?
Then she turned around and headed for me again. Now, at this point I am a little afraid because I'm there alone and I've made her mad or I've hurt her feelings. So I said "You can have the rest of this one if you want." Then she started crying again and asked me if I knew who she was. I told her no and she yelled that she was Michael Jackson. It was then that I loved her. I responded by saying that of course she was Michael Jackson, I was just tired and didn't realise. She got excited and asked me to sing along with her. I tried but she didn't really have any words so I asked her to get out of the rain.
My bus came right then. On the opposite corner was my little rain man getting off the 17. He nodded to me and I to him. Michael Jackson went on her way and waved to me as we turned the corner.
I waved back but she was busy talking to my little rain man.
I live ten minutes driving from work. But because I don't have a car anymore it takes me forty- five minutes to an hour on the public transit system. Normally what I do is walk to the corner at 6 a.m., Sunday through Thursday, get a coffee, and stand on the corner to wait for the 77 or the 17. Whichever comes first. On the corner where the 17 comes, every morning there is an old man who trembles and is soft spoken. If it's raining violently he stands to the side to let everyone else on before him. He carries a plastic shopping bag that crinkles and sounds like a tiny river when he trembles. He's small and carries his shoulders rounded and hunched, so no one can get in.
On the corner where the 77 comes there's a lady with a limp and a cane. Her name is Gail and she is handicapped and takes care of her mother. Every morning she gets on the bus and rides 20 miles outside the city to take care of her mom. She doesn't like living in this part of town because of all the "homosexuals" but she lives cheaply so she doesn't complain much.
The other day I got on the 17 and my little rain man (as I've dubbed him) wasn't there. We both get off the bus on 5th and Everett and wait for another bus, but since he wasn't there I went it alone. During this time of the morning and on this particular corner I am always aware of my surroundings. I was standing there alone when an old black woman came across the street and headed straight for me. She asked me for a cigarette and I told her I didn't have another one. I don't open my bag for anything downtown. She stood there and stared at me for a few seconds and turned away. It was raining, I was tired, and it was 545 a.m. I just didn't feel good. I looked over to the corner where she was standing and I saw her crying. She started yelling that I didn't know who she was. Didn't I understand who she was?
Then she turned around and headed for me again. Now, at this point I am a little afraid because I'm there alone and I've made her mad or I've hurt her feelings. So I said "You can have the rest of this one if you want." Then she started crying again and asked me if I knew who she was. I told her no and she yelled that she was Michael Jackson. It was then that I loved her. I responded by saying that of course she was Michael Jackson, I was just tired and didn't realise. She got excited and asked me to sing along with her. I tried but she didn't really have any words so I asked her to get out of the rain.
My bus came right then. On the opposite corner was my little rain man getting off the 17. He nodded to me and I to him. Michael Jackson went on her way and waved to me as we turned the corner.
I waved back but she was busy talking to my little rain man.
posted by Shirina Grimaldi | 2/11/2006 10:48:00 AM
3 Comments:
Thank you so much friend...that means so much to me.
I'm glad you're writing again...reading you is like drinking a warm mug of hot chocolate or chai...a guilty pleasure. I hope you continue. I hope the loneliness abates. You have friends who read you...if that helps...
Wow...Amy...that meant alot to me, what you said...
Thank you
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