I entered the bus with relief. It was dark from the early sunset that comes in December and raining hard. Cold wind blew raindrops that stung against faces and bodies as people tried to shield themselves as best they could.
But inside the bus was bright with light and warmth. Even though I was one of the last to get on, a seat was available at the front facing passengers on the other side.
“It’s pretty wet out there!” the bus driver looked at me and smiled. I returned the smile and nodded my dripping head in agreement. “But better than the white stuff – huh?” I laughed “yeah – way better than the white stuff.”
It was rush hour but no one was in a hurry. There was a sense of companionship and collective relief that we were all in this space – safe from the elements, warm, dry. The windows began to steam from all of us. There were nods, smiles, and shaking heads about the cold and the wet; the bus driver greeted each person with a laugh or smile.
We were a group of every color, size, and age. You couldn’t tell a nurse from a gas station attendant, a factory worker from a teacher – together in this space we were all on equal footing. City bus rides are not usually like this. There is always jostling, always someone angry, always someone taking offense. There is usually someone with serious mental illness and bus drivers are rarely patient in these parts. But this? This was different.
Like sitting in the warm sunshine, a feeling of belonging and contentment came over me. I was in the shared world of the city. I heard not a cross or angry word, instead all were just relieved to be there, safe in this space.
I thought about our world, so fractured so much of the time. Yet you don’t have to go far to find a group of people just like us – strangers all brought together by the circumstances of the weather, yet acknowledging each other as human beings, at the mercy of bad weather and difficult days.
I sat back and smiled, content for these moments, content to just be.
Recently a short essay called “Gate A-4” that made its way around social media last year, resurfaced. The essay is a true story about a Palestinian American woman whose flight was delayed by four hours. While wandering the airport she heard an announcement asking if there was anyone who could speak Arabic and if so, would they please come to gate A-4. It was the gate where her delayed plane was to leave from, she spoke Arabic so she responded to the call. She arrived to find a woman, hysterical, who did not understand the message. She comforted her, explained the situation in Arabic, and the story ends a couple hours later with the previously hysterical woman passing around little date cookies called maamoul, common in the Middle East but not well known in the United States. The author makes this observation as she looked around at other passengers, tired but all laughing and sharing small date cookies covered in powdered sugar.
“And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that gate— once the crying of confusion stopped— seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.” *
Here in this bus I know what the author is talking about. I know what she means. Because I look around and see the same – weary travelers on a journey, but no one apprehensive, no one worried about the other, all grateful to be there, warm, dry, away from the rain. The only things missing are the date cookies.
All too soon, it was time to push the yellow bar indicating to the driver that my stop was coming. I left the bus, entering into the cold and wet for my final walk home. But my heart was light and glad.
Daily we watch and read stories about a world that is not shared, a world that is fractured by disparities, suffering, killings, racism, and wars. But moments at airport gates and in crowded buses remind us that there is hope. Hope in humanity, hope that a stranger who is frantic and afraid can be calmed down and share date cookies, hope that people are better than they sometimes seem. It’s in these spaces that I feel belonging and hope. Hope for humanity and hope for community.
In these moments, in some inexplicable way our stories are linked together and we understand the truth:this world we live in is a shared world. It’s up to us whether we will serve date cookies or angry words. “Not everything is lost.”
Blogger’s note: Be sure to take a look at the original story. You can read it here.
Picture Credit: http://pixabay.com/en/blur-blurred-bus-city-motion-16706/
10 thoughts on “Our Shared World”
Oh goodness, Marilyn, tears! I had never read that Gate A-4 story! Wow. “Not everything is lost.” I yearn for more moments like this.
Wonderful story. Thank you, Marilyn, for sharing. I love the mental picture of a bunch of strangers engaging in community, in a public place, in the mundane activity of waiting. All too often, people are quick to shut down and engage with “electronic pacifiers” in such settings, rather than engage with the people around them…or simply to “be” in that space. Stories like this are so refreshing. We truly were made to live in community.
Love these posts from the public commute. I always say, you can see such a diverse cross section of humanity by just taking the transit system. Democracy at its best. Thanks for bringing it to life for us.
Reminds me of this from Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” (which I am just re-reading):”[Christmas is] the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.”
Love that quote. Used it in my own post once:
As a regular bus traveller, this post delighted me: I find the bus a friendly place where indeed all the world comes together.
A timely post! Just this morning, I was on a bus and a lady had some anger issues, and it was the bus company rule to show your Medicaid card to get the 50 cent discount. She did not have it on her and had to pay $1, and she called the bus driver a couple of bad names, and was eating on the bus, which is a no-no. Anyways, the bus driver was about ready to call the police, but she calmed down, and we went on.
Some folks needs to get into the Christmas spirit being only 14 days away!
Wonderful post. Thanks for the link back.
My pleasure – you have a great site and love that you posted that story.