admin
22 December 2023
Last night, at about 10:30pm, I got on the bus to come home from school. A woman I recognized was sitting in the first seat.
“Have a nice evening now,” she said as she waved to me.
“You too,” I said.
I remember her repeating that phrase over and over to me, and all other passengers on the bus, when I used to work at Cal Fed up in Terra Linda. I used to catch the number 80 bus after work every night, and she would always be there at the bus stop. She’s a very nice woman, in her early fifties, I’d say, and she seems to have some sort of mental disability. She’s always dirty and her hair always looks wet; you might think she’s homeless. But like I said, she’s nice. I would always see her everywhere, too. Like the homeless black woman back in Milwaukee who seemed to always be at Rainbow Summer or Summerfest or any festival that was going on.
I actually just saw her when I was in Milwaukee for my birthday. My mom and I went to St. Francis Days and she was there, roaming around, looking in garbage cans and enjoying the music. I was so excited to see her. I looked at my mom with my mouth open.
“She’s everywhere,” my mom said.
It’s kind of funny, but seeing her reminds me of my childhood. Who else can say that, besides maybe my brother? “Oh yeah, that homeless woman really brings back great memories.”
But she does! She will always remind me of how great things were back when I lived at home and had so much fun with Justin and my family. At a time when I had nothing to worry about or complain about or cry about. When I felt like I could laugh at anything and everything would be okay. I didn’t have to think about divorce, depression, or worrying about not having anyone. All I had to worry about was trying not to set the tree in our front yard on fire from lighting fireworks off of our porch.
I never understood when people would say they miss their childhood, because I have always felt like I was and wanted to be so much older. But now, even though I’m only 20, I feel so sad when I realize that it will never be like that again.
“Have a nice evening now,” she said as she waved to me.
“You too,” I said.
I remember her repeating that phrase over and over to me, and all other passengers on the bus, when I used to work at Cal Fed up in Terra Linda. I used to catch the number 80 bus after work every night, and she would always be there at the bus stop. She’s a very nice woman, in her early fifties, I’d say, and she seems to have some sort of mental disability. She’s always dirty and her hair always looks wet; you might think she’s homeless. But like I said, she’s nice. I would always see her everywhere, too. Like the homeless black woman back in Milwaukee who seemed to always be at Rainbow Summer or Summerfest or any festival that was going on.
I actually just saw her when I was in Milwaukee for my birthday. My mom and I went to St. Francis Days and she was there, roaming around, looking in garbage cans and enjoying the music. I was so excited to see her. I looked at my mom with my mouth open.
“She’s everywhere,” my mom said.
It’s kind of funny, but seeing her reminds me of my childhood. Who else can say that, besides maybe my brother? “Oh yeah, that homeless woman really brings back great memories.”
But she does! She will always remind me of how great things were back when I lived at home and had so much fun with Justin and my family. At a time when I had nothing to worry about or complain about or cry about. When I felt like I could laugh at anything and everything would be okay. I didn’t have to think about divorce, depression, or worrying about not having anyone. All I had to worry about was trying not to set the tree in our front yard on fire from lighting fireworks off of our porch.
I never understood when people would say they miss their childhood, because I have always felt like I was and wanted to be so much older. But now, even though I’m only 20, I feel so sad when I realize that it will never be like that again.
artid
496
Old Image
3_2_bus.swf
issue
vol 3 - issue 02 (oct 2000)
section
pen_think