7. Shirdula

Day 7- Shirdula

The sun is out to play today, with the wind skipping along the grass- perfect tee shirt weather. I was walking casually to my bus stop. Smelling the roses, taking my sweet time, without a care in the world, even though I was on a time crunch. And then, half a block away, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bus that waved in sea green colors, "Q27."

That's my bus.

I was more than half a block away from the bus stop. I looked straight ahead and saw the white walking man icon on the street light. I gasped. My heart started pounding. I had to make it for this bus. Or else I would have to wait 10 minutes for the next one.

Holding my Kathy Cidston satchel by my side, I booked it. In my thin, black, shiny, pointy flats, I stretched my legs and ran like I never did before in my life. I flew. I thought to myself, 'Maybe, if I made my running dramatic enough, the bus driver will notice, stop, and wait for me regardless if I make the light or not.' I opened my arms and flaring them like I was a bird trying to take off.

The pavement flew beneath my feet. As I ran, I wondered when I would start feeling the pain in my body, my shortness of breath, and my mind to screaming me to stop. I waited, but it never came. As I got closer to the edge of the sidewalk, I anticipated the calm, white walking man to trade off with the angry, Halloween orange hand.  As my feet touched the white painted crosswalk, each step towards victory, the angry hand never came.

I let out a laugh as I saw a woman standing at the bus stop. As I got closer to her, I slowed down, catching my breath. I joined her, spread out my arms in victory, and politely screamed, "I made it!" I looked at the woman next to me. Shirdula was a shorter than me, long, frizzy, black mane, wore dark red lipstick, with a red tilaka on her third eye. She was smooth and calm, facing the direction of the bus.

Dissatisfied with her reaction, I caught eyes with Shirdula, jumped up, and said again, "I made it!! Yay!"

Shirdula nodded, "Yeah, good for you." She smiled softly and continued, "I didn't make it."

"I didn't make it."

"I didn't make it...."

For some reason, 'I didn't make it' really resonated with me. Perhaps, just 10 minutes prior, Shirdula was in the same situation as me- she saw the bus coming. She was probably very close, but she just didn't make it. But I made it. The bus we were hopping on together was my victory, but to Shirdula our bus was her alternative. As Shirdula was elated about me making for my bus, I can tell she really wanted to catch the bus from 10 minutes ago.

Things are just things. We put our own interpretation to things. We put our own story to the thing. Whatever it is, we are the story tellers, interpreters, and critics to these things. In this case, the thing is our perfect timing for catching the bus.

The bus was crowded, but I was able to stand next to Shirdula. We exchanged smiles and soaked in each other's silence. As she got off for her stop, I waved, "Have a good day! Hope you make your bus next time."

She waved back just as the back doors slammed shut and the bus continued on.