It's 6:45am and my heart is pounding from the run to catch the bus. It's packed. People are freshly showered, or at least freshly nicotined. Some, both.
I'm sitting now. Being shimmied from left to right with the travel- in the back of the bus where the staring crew sit. May as well join them: I always prefer honesty and crassness to held breath and niceties.
(pause)
Last night I had my favorite kind of conversation: At night, on the phone, underneath my covers, with someone I care about who is far away.
He called me on his break from the place he used to call me from when we were dating and we laughed about the déjà vu. He is working there again.
(pause)
A bit of time before my destination. I'm sitting in the cafe that a dear friend used to work in, now, reading a letter from her that has been sent from states away. The morning is still just beginning to move.
I am fortunate to have such love in my life. To have letters and phone calls and people who are brilliant and gruff and funny.
I feel proud and giddy and throb-hearted to be a part of a hodgepodge of people who all, still, recognize the importance of, and inject sincerity in, those words we add to the end of conversations from time to time:
Call me if you need to talk to someone.
(pause)
For now, I wrap all of this around me. There is a thick fog I have been watching from the windows of this cafe that the buses periodically cut through.
It's time to go out and enjoy it.
Be well; be loved,
k.
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