Untitled chapter
Saturday Bus.
by Ivan Petryshyn
Be brave. Take a Saturday bus. Just go to that bus stop at the corner and wait. You will be waiting for 40 minutes, but that’s a trifle. You were taught to observe. Do it. Open your eyes, covered by eyeglasses, and observe. Do you see those two women coming up to their car? They have two cages with pets in. Perhaps, the pets were vaccinated. And that young man riding an electric scooter? Young, slim, fast. Well dressed, also: a gray hoodie… There’s also a running young man just across the street. Where is he running? For health, as they used to say in Ukraine 10 or 20 years ago. Now, they are in war with their “older brother” who is bombing his “brothers and sisters in Christ” to liberate them from their life protecting the Russian language they speak, too.
What, now? Tired? Well, you may practice deep breathing for anxiety and anger or do exercises for legs and feet to make them function better.
Cars are running to and fro, from one end to another hurrying to fulfill their Saturday weekend mission. People are waling along the sidewalks with their children and pets. One dad is carrying his son high above his head on his shoulders. The baby is turning his curly fair head to sides trying to shoot as many stills of the life as possible.
There’s an old lady who has problems with standing too long. She is sitting of a concrete balustrade trying to give rest to her legs and body.
There appears a uniformed CTA train-station lady, all happy and smiling, as if she has just won a lottery. She might be interested in me, an old stranger who has been standing so long to take that 150-something bus.
The arrival information is not temporarily available. Seems, they do not want to upset you with the time you will have to wait for the bus, so they switch it off. Then, the info appears- 27 minutes. I have already been waiting for 16 minutes, and, now- another 27,- like 45 minutes, perhaps.
There are some interesting personalities walking around- a young short man with his wife and his mother-in-law. He seems to be an expert in something. They walk around and come back the same way.
There appears a bus from afar, with the lit panel on top.
The bus stops, an old man-driver just looks at every candidate passengers. I get on the bus, take a seat, and, then, get up, as a man with a walker appears.
My Saturday weekend journey began.
No big deal: just 45 minutes to wait. The patience awarded. I am on the bus.
