Riding on the Bus...

 

...what do I see?

A man in a red hoodie fast asleep, arms across his chest.

A tall man with close cut gray hair and a white sweatshirt looking around suspiciously.

A man dressed in black from tip to toe.  Perhaps he is a server at a restaurant?  His black pants and black button-down shirt are neatly pressed.  Are those black shoes or sneakers.  I cannot tell.

A tired mother carrying bottles of Pedialyte (or something similar) and a bag of snacks.  (Are they Funyuns?  I cannot tell.)  She balances it all while holding the hand of her elementary school aged son who has a bottle of Gatorade.  He is tired too.  They sit together; he in his tie-dyed shirt, resting his head on her shoulder and she speaks to him softly in Spanish.

An older bald man who speaks no English.  He shows a sheet of paper to the bus driver as he boards.  Is it directions to where he is going?  He has a paper mask on, but it sits below his chin.  I think perhaps he does not speak at all, but I am wrong as he murmurs into his phone as the bus jerks forward.

The teen in a tan tank top and baggy black sweatpants with bouncy black curls that waved in the breeze as she got off the bus.

A teen with beautiful long auburn hair and almond shaped eyes wearing a pink top and carrying a large brown bag with a Labubu attached to it.  She is engrossed in her phone.

A student with a black mesh backpack and white earbuds, who stands when an older woman, with lined mocha colored skin and a puffy pink winter coat boards the bus.

The woman with the puffy pink coat sits next to a teen wearing a red t-shirt and baggy shorts.  Is she on her way to practice?  What sport might she play?

A tiny man with a knit skull cap, who lithely gets off the bus with a grace that is rarely seen, even in ballet dancers.

Another man with wild hair and loose-fitting pants who sways as he waits for the bus to come to his stop so he can dance off.

The mother with two little girls; one no more than 3 climbed on the bus with no help.  The other, just over a year old I could guess, carried by her mother.  She reaches out her tiny hand and strokes my backpack.  The mother apologizes.  There is no need; her smile lightens up my day.  The girls giggle as the bus bounces forward.  It is the sweetest sound I have heard all day.

I'm riding on the bus and what do I see?  I see people of all different colors, shapes and sizes.  I hear different languages.  I smell...sweet and sour, smoky and bitter.  I feel...I feel humanity as it surrounds me as I am riding on the bus.

We are all riding on the bus.  We are different ages, different ethnicities, different shapes, and different sizes.  We wear different clothes; we eat different food. But we are all riding on the bus.  Moving forward.  Moving to our destination.  As we all ride on the bus.