(This is the third in a four-part series)
I got to the bus stop just as a bus was passing, this time I was lucky enough to flag it down. As I walked over to the opening doors, I pulled my wallet out to grab my u-pass. It wasn’t there.
My u-pass is always there. Every time I use it, I put it right back in the same spot. Every time. Somehow, it was not there.
On any normal day in the past, and possibly in the future, I would have lost my composure. I would have gotten angry, upset and stressed. Something immediately overcame me though; I looked up at the bus driver and, smilingly, waved him on.
I then began the two-block walk home.
On the way, I tried to figure out where my u-pass might be, but I could not begin to guess.
I entered the apartment expecting a long and frustrating search, but there it was, on the ground behind the head of my bed. How in the world it got there I cannot begin to guess. Why my eyes looked there first I cannot begin to guess. I picked it up, turned around, and walked back to the bus stop.
The bus came. I got on, and (somehow) still got to work with time to spare.
The whole time I felt peaceful and calm, how? There is something deeper than me and my guesses.