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.