The Bus

I don’t remember when I joined the Bus, but you can be sure it was a long, long time ago. Many folks have got on and off the Bus since then - many. Always a few, young and old would stand and vacate their seats, and then get off at the next stop.

At that halt, new folks would step in and find a seat.

So many of the other passengers, I got to know and love - and many of them are gone now. The sad thing is the newest people never got to know the old ones, just like when it’s my turn to get off, I won’t get to know those who board in the stops ahead.

But what I try to do it remember those who left the Bus – talk about them to folks who knew them and the ones who never got to meet them. They say you leave the Bus twice. Once when you get off and the second time when your name is mentioned for the very last time.

And for those who left earlier than me, some far too soon, I look out the window and take in what is happening out there – for them – I try to live a little for those who didn’t get to travel as far as me.

My stop will be coming soon, and I just hope that maybe once, someone will mention my name in the long journey ahead. Then one day, my name will never be mentioned again, and that will be that.

bobby stevenson 2020

photo: Night Bus by Nick Turpin