when you’re finally over it
Bus rides always make me nostalgic, especially the longer ones.
It brings me back to that blissful day she came to pick me up, and the tragic one that followed with the drop off.
I strolled up to her car window as she occupied herself with J.D. Salinger. My knocking on the window jolted her and she hurriedly got out of the car. We hugged, and I pulled away sooner than she wanted, but at the time I was too nervous. Afraid of the repercussions. I should have held her longer.
When we said goodbye at that same bus stop, it was a very different feel. There was no hug, and only a bitter farewell. I didn’t bother to see if she was waiting, I didn’t bother to run off that bus and stop her. Even then, I should have held her longer.
Today though, when I got off the bus, my dad was there waiting for me. It was a relief, to say the least. I briefly glanced behind me, perhaps I was finally leaving those memories.
Those bus rides, they sure can be tricky.
