Running for the bus

Do you ever have a day of seeing the same thing so often that you’re certain it’s trying to tell you something?

For me that was the day of running for the bus… It was a day of mass appointments; ones that would have had me in a mess of nerves previously but have now become the norm, paling into mediocrity. I took many buses that day and as I gazed out of the window I took in the sights of people going about their days and dealing with the eccentricities of life.
I saw a man in a dapper suit, his suitcase waving wildly as he began sprinting towards the stop whilst the bus made ready to pull away, at another there was a mother with two small children trailing awkwardly behind her as she tried desperately to get to the bus in time, an elderly woman, a couple of teenagers… almost every stop had a tale to tell, some made it and some didn’t but it struck me that they had all made a choice, they could run for the bus or they could walk and watch it drive away without them… What would they be missing if they did not get this bus? How would their lives change?

I think that is what has changed in my mind. I think that may be one of the final pieces of the puzzle on this rocky road to enlightenment. I have made the choice to run for my bus, to unashamedly sprint to catch my life up because though it may be a hard slog and leave me breathless and tired, who knows what I might be missing if I continue to walk and let the world drive away without me.

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