On The Bus

It was one of those hot days that made you just want to be inside to get away from the heat. Lucky for me, the city bus has air conditioning.
I had had a work day that was so boring that next thing on my list was a date with my DVD player. I felt lucky that I jumped off my bus quick enough to transfer to the number 21 that would get me home sooner. Once I got closer, I realized my luck came from a young woman lugging a baby stroller on to the bus. I said a silent thank you to her for being an inconvenience to everyone else and a blessing to me.
Being the last to load leaves one and the mercy of everyone else’s sitting arrangement. To avoid having to sit next to the possibly homeless or deranges gentleman talking to himself, I opted for the very rear seat.
Problem to getting to this gem of and alone seat was getting my hips and butt past the aforementioned young lady and her aisle wide stroller.
After a little shimmy and a couple of polite excuse me’s, I was in my seat. I was prepared for my 15 to 20 minuet bus ride with my dog eared book and bottle of water. My concentration was broken with the piercing scream of a child. I looked up from my gen x authored book to meet the eyes of a little girl.
She was about 3 or 4 sitting next to a boy of about 5. He was sitting next to a woman who looked to be about 25 maybe even 26. She was nodding off with a girl about 1 in her lap. And I assumed the producer of the screams.
Looking at the children I saw no resemblance. Thus my initial reaction was she was a little old to be a babysitter. But then the young boy yells “mommy” and the nodding off woman.
The 3 and 5 year olds bicker back and forth for half of my ride, screaming, yelling and showing the signs of sibling rivalry. But how could they be siblings. The young boy was dark, darker than the mother watching over him. The little girl obviously was of mixed heritage. If her honey color skin didn’t tell that, her grade of hair sure did.
I couldn’t keep my mind on the page full of words in front of me. I started my bad habit of daydreaming other peoples’ lives and situations. Here she is with these three children so close in age. She doesn’t have the time to teach them how to act in public. She had at least two different baby fathers and that was stress enough.
My thought was interrupted by the woman next to me asking the young lady if they were all hers. Her reply was “Yes, all four of them”
Four? I thought to myself. Then I saw the passenger of the rather large stroller. There was the smallest member. Maybe a few weeks old.
Four children. She was so young. She was my age. I could be her. I could not have my college education, my lousy job, and my quiet lonely nights to myself. Rather than getting annoyed by my ex’s, I could be buried under baby daddy drama. I snapped out of it quick enough to realize I was black away from my place. I was hoping she and her broad would get off before me but no such luck. But they didn’t so seconds away from my stop, I plotted my next dance with the stroller.
Raising my hand to pull the cord, I knew she couldn’t just let me through. I put away my book and gathered my things and stood up to move.
The stroller seems to move a couple of inches on its own. With sleepy eyes sparkling she politely asked “Can you make it through?”
I smiled and thought of the irony of the question.
“Yes” I said “Thank you” But Honestly I wondered the same thing about her.