With Thanksgiving only two days away, my week has gotten easier. One school is closed and the other is dismissing early every day. So I was much more relaxed as I sat behind the wheel of my school bus this morning where, at a red light I watched a young woman cross the street and head for the train station on the corner.
She was dressed beautifully in dark gray slacks and a matching long woolen jacket with a light gray sweater beneath it. On her lips she wore bright red lipstick and her dark brown, almost black, hair looked purposefully and artistically disheveled.
As she walked I wondered who she was and what she was like. I was willing to bet she was kind and caring. And what was she thinking? I wondered. Were her thoughts on a sick child or, perhaps, an aging parent? Was she looking forward to a promotion or dreading the results of a medical test she had taken? Whatever her circumstances, as the light turned green and she made it safely across the street, she made me wonder about the thread we all have in common and about the invisible force that keeps us all separate.
And what about me? A moment ago I was wondering only if I would make it to my first stop on time while underneath I was thinking about the love I’ve lost, the book I'd written and the one I was writing. But what if I had never known that love? Or what if the sales on my book suddenly plummeted or, better yet, sky rocketed? What if I make it to my first stop a minute too late or a minute too soon? Will I remember to take a moment to be grateful that I had gotten there at all?
My memoir, Dear Elvis, is available at amzn.to/2uPSFtE
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