Round and Round

“The wheels on the bus go round and round….” Round and round the song went in my head. It was stuck in my head as I rolled along in the bus, having no real destination.

I needed to clear my bead. One moment I was walking down the street aimlessly and tbe next thing I know I was buying a bus ticket.

Now here I sat with a preschool song rolling through part of my brain while memories of my past rolled through anotber.

Nobody seemed to mind that I wasn’t up for conversation. Most either had their head in a phone or a book. Or they were catching a few extra winks.

One lady had pink scrubs on and looked exhausted. Had she pulled a double perhaps?

Another guy was engrossed in an Astronomy magazine. I used to love looking at the stars at night. The starry sky seemed huge when growing up on the farm.

So many wishes were made upon a star. If only all of them would have come true.

Okay, maybe not quite all. I saw Trevor at our 10th Highschool reunion and am really glad I didn’t end up with him.

“The wheels on the bus go round and round…” The tires squeal as it stops to pick up someone. A tall lady steps onto the bus and rakes a seat across from me. I try not to stare, but can’t help it.

“The horn on the bus goes beep…” The driver mutters something unintelligible. Dealing with bad drivers and pedestrians were a big part of city driving.

I made myself look away, didn’t want to make the lady feel awkward. But soon I was looking again. I had never seen anyone before in a raspberry beret. Looked so fashionable upon her head.

She clutched onto her Gucci shoulder bag and sat up all prim and proper. I couldn’t help but wonder what all she kept inside of it.

“The wipers on the bus go swish…swish.” It had started raining, maybe I would keep riding the bus for a little while longer.

A raspberry beret. It was only a hat but tbis beret was special. I didn’t know why but there was something that drew me in.

The young lady kept looking back and forth, sitting so close to the edge of the seat. I was sure she would fall.

I smiled but didn’t get one back.

Was that a tear slipping down her face?

Something told me that I needed to stay witb beret lady. What was her story? We all have stories but some are hidden more than others.

“The babies on the bus go….” A frazzled mom sit diagonally across from me. The baby wailed but then as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

My beret lady pulled out a little notebook from her big bag and began to write. What was she writing and why did I care? What drew me to her? Had I seen her before?

‘The wheels on the bus go round and round…” ( to be continued…)