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I
sit, protected by the large, smiling face of a local realtor painted
across one side of the bus. I feel the age and use of the seat. I can see
the hundreds of people who, like me, chose this one chair. I see a child
holding the hand of her mother. Grocery bags lay on the floor. The pink
glossy shoes of the little girl look new, and sway back and forth, and
with each movement rub against the bagged food. I see an old man, just
after leaving the construction site. He smells of tar and dirt, with
black smudged on his face and hands. He sits exhausted, eyes closed,
sleeping and waiting. He looks pleased. He has created something new,
something better, in a world of the most modern designs and the most
efficient buildings. I see two teenagers. They are in love. The feeling
has spread from their hearts to their faces. They stare, drowning in
each others eyes. Their hands clutch one another, in fear that the next
bump in the road will take the other away. I grow envious of those who
previously sat here. Surrounded in the hustle and bustle of never ending
crowds, each day is an adventure. Stepping out of the apartment or
house, a day filled with the unknown begins. Constant change, constant
motion provides a continual current of excitement. Excitement and
surprise rarely discovered or felt in my life. They live the life of the
city; they are the city. I, only for miniscule minutes become a part of
their world.
Music pours into my left ear, coming from an
antique compact disc player whose coloring is chipped off, leaving brown
rough edges. The owner of the music, no older than me, sits with his
head down. His eyes scan the ground. His flannel jacket lacks two
buttons and each exciting experience in his life has left a small hole
in the pockets. He smells of work, dust, and content. I wish to extend
an arm and experience life as he has, life in the city, a life of change
and spontaneity. He looks up to find my eyes upon him. He smiles and
nods. The doors open and he leaves and I in turn return to a life
without the glossy pink shoes, and the comforting sound of freely
flowing music. I return to a life absent of the city.
This page was last
updated on
January 18, 2005
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