Bus drivers

I can't help but notice really nice bus drivers. They make me want to cry.

Like the driver who gave big-eyed toddler her very own transfer while very young mom dug for change, cradled teensy babe, and balanced grocery bags between offbrand sneakers.

Or the one who waits an extra 7 seconds to see if Lucy, the lady with not-quite understandable speech, is still wobbling down the street as fast as she her not-quite-right legs will take her.

Or the driver who greets me with "Good morning, princess" when I've overslept, failed to erase a toothpaste drip from my jacket, and just noticed I'm wearing mismatched socks.

How do they get this way? Better yet, how do they stay that way?

May there be a special place in the heavens for them--with divine layovers, great coffee, and quiet, lots of quiet.


A good reminder of the tremendous beauty in the world. Thanks.

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