She didn’t know.


After everything I’d gone through in order to catch that bus,
there was no way in hell I’d fail to do whatever it took to stay on it.

Once a week, I go downtown to check my mail and pick up prescriptions.  I’ll normally arrive at Dunkin’ Donuts (Calvert and Lexington Streets) about 11:45; drink one large dark roast iced coffee; catch the Orange bus up to CVS at Fayette and Wolfe Streets; take the bus back to DD; have another large dark roast iced coffee; walk to Our Daily Bread (Fallsway and Monument) to check my mail; walk back to DD; get one last large dark roast iced coffee.

By now it will be about 14:30.  I have a twenty minute walk, steeply uphill, to Baltimore and Greene Streets, normally planning to catch the outbound #73 bus back to my current housing.  One’s scheduled to come at 15:05.  I normally intend to use that walk for my second period of silence for the day.

Historically, bus service on that line has left a lot to be desired.

This day, on that corner in the cold wind, the 15:05 bus never came.  Of course, once I realized this, I was resentful.  But how resentful can I afford to be, and for how long?  The next bus is scheduled for 15:35.

I’ve developed habits as to how to use such unwanted and unwelcome free time.  The first phase is to “glow:” I am able to brighten my aura at will, and I spend time just standing there, glowing, letting this light emanate into the cosmos.  Thereafter, I may spend time in various forms of prayer.

An unusual occurrence this time:  some hours before, I had intentionally chosen, for the music I’d hear playing in my mind, the “Air on a G String.”  Now it came back, and for some time, I stood there, simply listening to this music.

The 15:35 bus didn’t come, either.  The next was scheduled for 16:05.

The last previous time I’d put my COVID mask on, the string broke.  This would have been right before I left Dunkin’ Donuts.  It presented no problem until the bus came, and I held the mask with one hand to keep it on.

The cute, sexy, dark-skinned young bus driver with her hair in long twists, told me I’d have to keep the mask on at all times.  She asked me if I meant to hold it like that through the whole trip, and looked incredulous when I nodded and said yes.

She didn’t know.

After everything I’d gone through in order to catch that bus, there was no way in hell I’d fail to do whatever it took to stay on it.

 

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