Thursday, January 7, 2010


On a whim, I caught a different bus route home today and ended up seeing an old, old friend in the process. Butteflies? Check. Nausea? Double check.

He was parking his car, just a block or two from the next major stop. That bus idled for a ruthlessly long time as the wrestling match in my head flopped between ditching my ride to say hello, and continuing on my path. Or was it my path to see him for the first time in years? How does one tell? And why isn’t there some helpful gadget for these momentous forks in the road - something watch-shaped, and discreet (for those of us who occasionally still clutch on to their egos)? The bus finally took off before I could throw myself out of the rear exit and hit the pavement running to catch up with my old friend. I wonder what he was doing in my neck of the woods...