Route 61

I was waiting for my bus again. It was late as usual. From the bus stop I could barely see the turn in the road where the green monstosity showed itself. It was too distant to be heard, but it soon came close enough.
I spotted an ond gentlemen, who hurried down the street. He was breathing very heavily, and his bones must've been rattling under his sacky suit. In one hand he held a wooden cane that he swung like it was a pendulum, and in the other was a blue umbrella. I looked up at the equally blue sky – no clouds to see at all. The old man's effort seemed to be worth it, however, since he made it down to me before the bus did. He made a wide smile at me, while he breathed like a retired locomotive.

"Good you made it," I said to him to cheer him up a bit. Both my hands were in my pocket, as I rocked my body back and forth to the rhythm of the old man's cane. He looked confusedly at me.

"What did I make, exactly?" he mumbled.

I pointed at the nearing bus.

"Well, the bus of course."

The old man glanced at the green beast as it roared down the street. He shook his shoulders.

"No," he said. "I'm not waiting for that. But, considering the weather, maybe you should have this."

He handed me his blue umbrella, and I looked at his insisting face. There was something about it that made it impossible for me to reject his offer. I accepted the umbrella, where after I folded it together, just in time for the bus to open its two doors before me. I tried to get another glance at the old man as I stepped in. He was nowhere to be seen, but the sight of his pleading eyes still rumbled in my mind.
It was the same bus driver as always, and I still didn't know his name. I showed him my transportation pass, and he nodded. And just about when I was heading down the bus, he said:

"It sure is crap with all of this rain lately."

The bus started moving down the street.
'Rain?' I thought, but then I looked down my drenched body.

My usual seat was available, so I immediately took it. It was two seats from the middle doors of the bus. It was important to sit in the left side of the bus, because one avoided the glare of the sun from the east side. I was completely wet, and I hoped to dry a little before my exit. Through the window the sky was still cloudless, and the fabric of the blue umbrella crunched between my fingers.

I had been dreaming the same dream this morning. Although, this time, I got to dream a bit longer than usual. I was laying in the blue couch when she came to me. Her eyes were enormous, as usual, and they were framed by her long, hanging hair that somehow managed to sway in the windless room. Without a word, she came down to me and I embraced her with my arms, while she embraced me with everything else, just by being there. She smiled at me from time to time, and I felt like I saw myself in her. You could see yourself in many mirrors, but she was one of the better.
Usually, the dream ended here, but this night it continued. She ended up leaving the room, without a word of even another glance at me. But then the telephone woke me up.

The sun still shone outside, but luckily I was in the right side of the bus. The seats around me started to get quite full, and soon someone came to sit next to me. It was a little brown-haired girl that smiled politely at me before sitting down. Soon after, the bus actually got to the place in its route where people began going out. The first big exit was the school. I was expecting the little girl to get out, but she didn't. A lot of kids did, however, and they swarmed out into the school yard. It was always funny to see the kids switch from unworried play to almost hysterical running when the school bells chimed. The young ones were the first to answer the call, but then, after their little portray of rebelliousness, the older kids soon followed. It all reminded me of my first school day. My dad had gotten up early that day to prepare my lunch and bag. Fun thing was, though, that I had gotten up even earlier. I sneaked up to his bedroom door, and he was snoring. Soon his alarm went off, and he almost fell out of his little bed. I had never seen him that tired, but then he looked at me.

Stuff like that – memories like that – made the loss of him so much worse. The telephone this morning, the one that woke me up, told me about his passing. I had just listened to the caller, not answering even once. The only signal I gave the world was when I dropped the phone halfway through the conversation. I was quiet until I took my morning shower, but there was water everywhere anyway, so even God couldn't laugh at me in there. I had dried up, gotten dressed, and then went out to reach the bus stop.

And in the bus I still sat, next to the little girl that fiddled with the stop button. It made me nervous and annoyed, and I tried to look warningly at her, but she didn't catch any hints. The bus now moved through the most crowded part of the city, and a lot of people booth entered and exited, and I didn't even care anymore if it was a kid or an old man. It continued like that till we had gotten out of the heart of the city. The girl still played with the button, and I tried to ignore it by looking out the window. Many things flew past; all kinds of doctors and hospitals one moment, and cinemas and kiosks the next. Way too young parents strolled down the street, carrying babies and limping runners mingled among such a big group of people that they must have a view of the entire world. I only had a little piece of the world to look out to, through that little window, but in a moving bus.

The red stop light got turned on and I noticed that the little girl had finally pressed the stop button. The bus stopped by a little photography shop, and the girl stood up from her seat. But then, when I looked at her, I was suddenly staring at an old woman. She smiled politely at me, just like before. She had some trouble getting down to the doors, and I looked amazed while she stepped out on the side walk and went in to visit the photographer. I managed to see her shaking a man's hand, where after he showed her a seat that was surrounded by white lilies and a sharp cone of light.
The bus continued and I was left wondering. I was completely dry, and when I finally saw my own wrinkly fingers, I no longer wondered.
The next stop was my own, and I pressed the button. I limped down to the door, and finally got out. The bus disappeared down the street, while a young, exhausted man came running to the bus stop. He looked disappointingly at the dust that the bus had left behind.

"It seems like it could start raining soon, son," I told him and handed him the blue umbrella.

He first looked at me, then at the sky, but he accepted it nonetheless.
I wandered a bit down the street and I was soon enveloped by the red wall of the cemetery. With my shovel in hand I started another day of work, and it was the first time that day, where I could finally feel relieved. In the distance stood a pack of people, all dressed in black. They stood with hanging heads around a grave. In the middle of the crowd a towering, preaching, character stood as he read from a book. Then the coffin was lowered.
At that time, I didn't even think about my own father.
I thought of the little girl in the bus instead.