This morning on my drive into campus, I slowed down behind a campus bus as it stopped on its route. I watched the students pile out as those waiting to board stood patiently in the cold. I worried about them as the snow felt lightly. I enjoyed a toasty warm car.
Then I saw her. She was way down the sidewalk, and as I looked through my rear view mirror, I noted the way she ran so fast her bag slung side to side. She couldn’t possible make it. The bus began to pull away, and my heart sank for her. Who hasn’t had a day like this? Who hasn’t missed the bus or began a day with something so frustrating like this?
I thought about where she’d go from here and how she’d recover. What class would she miss? What appointment would she forfeit? The day took on a dreary, cold feeling. This was the kind of day where the bus won’t wait, where the whole day is now off, and where nothing works out. Oh! Some days are like this.
But then, I heard the squeal of brakes and that exhale that told me the bus was waiting.
It froze in place for her. It waited for her.
I watched her climb on the bus happily, and I considered the narrative of a different kind of morning, the kind where you live in a world where the bus waits for you, where you make it on time, and where it all works out.
At least on this day, the bus did wait. I think about the ups and downs of ordinary living. You’ll have a day when the bus waits, and you’ll have a day when it doesn’t. But today, it waited!