After getting my groceries I’m standing there waiting for this bus. My back, my knee, my hip are all hurting. I live with chronic pain since the motorcycle accident and take great care not to end up back in the hospital. One wrong move with this sack of goods – my food for the week — could change my life forever.
Now more people are showing up at the bus stop. There’s no way I can beat them to the bus to get a seat. I didn’t bring my glasses so I can’t even see what bus is coming.
It finally arrives and I get a seat. People are jumping on and off the bus with their two bags in hand, proper amount of content in each bag, looking at me like I’m some kind of a rookie. I’m just hoping all my stuff doesn’t spill out on this dirty floor.
I get off at Carson and Smithfield to wait for my next bus. Taking the Incline and walking was out of the question. I’m not a religious man but I did take a moment here to kneel down and thank God it wasn’t raining or snowing or 20° outside.
A minute seemed like an hour. But it finally came and I got a seat in the front leaving my sack of goods in the middle of the aisle for people to trip over. Then I realized: this bus is going to blow by my street leaving me two extra blocks from my home unless we catch a light and the driver has the mercy to let me off. As luck would have it we got a red light, I jumped up and made my request. “Please let me off.”
Without comment the doors opened and I made my getaway. I carried the groceries the final block, neighbors staring at me as I inched my way home. Inside I went straight for the frig with the perishables, grabbed two aspirins for pain and laid down, wondering if I caused any damage to my back.
Then my eyes popped wide open. I have to make the trip again tomorrow, to get everything else on my list. See part 3.
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