May 16th, 2007

Roman

It's already happening

I took the bus into downtown yesterday afternoon. When I got to the bus stop there was a man there, waiting for the bus, reading a book. I happily took out my own book and waited with him. I arrived at my stop without incident, trekked through Downtown Centre and on over to Monterey Street Espresso, where I had a cappuccino and an apple sun cake. I read more there. I thought I might go to the library to register for netlibrary but I didn't have my library card with me so decided not to. I walked up to the transit center, figuring I might as well get on the next bus headed toward home.

While I was waiting at the bus stop a young woman asked which bus I was waiting for. She was short, stooped, looked like she might be disabled to an extent. I told her I was waiting for 3 or 1, either would do. She asked where I was going and I told her - Orcutt at Laurel Lane. She said that's where she was going, too, and that she lived on Bullock Lane. I said so do I.

And I was sunk then. The bus came, we both got on - she sat across from me. She asked about the book I was reading. I showed it to her, said I like big books (it's over 900 pages). She asked if it was good, I said so far yes. She asked if I'd read other books by the same author. I said yes. I then made the mistake of mentioning her rings. She had rings on every finger, bracelets on each hand, other jewelry. I said she had a lot of rings.

She said she likes rings, her boyfriend gave them to her, "my sweetie". Her boyfriend likes rings, too, and she gives them to him. He missed her a lot when she went to Alaska recently, He left 100 voice messages on her cell phone plus sent text messages all the time. She couldn't call him from there but she could text him, so she did. Said "I miss you" and "I love you". Probably in shorthand. She said her boyfriend didn't want her to leave. He couldn't stand to be away from her. I said, "But you could." She said no, she really missed him too.

When we got to our stop I felt I had to wait for her. We walked around the corner - her apartment building is, fortunately, right at the corner almost, so I did get a bit of a walk home alone. While we walked she asked about my home and its replacement - I had mentioned this on the bus - and how much it would cost and if I had any animals. When I told her I had cats and would have to board them she said she bet that my daughters would let me bring them with me when I traveled. I tried to explain the difficulties in traveling on a plane with cats but that didn't get through, really.

All in all way more socializing than I will ever be ready for. And now I have to think about meeting up with her the next time I take the bus.
Roman

therapy on a card

My daughter Mary gave me the PostSecret book for Mothers' Day. I think she knows me well. I first flipped here and there, reading different cards. Then I started at the beginning and I am quickly going through the whole book. I had to set it aside to leave some for later.

Just reading the cards is therapy for me. I read of lost loves, loneliness, obsession, mothers and fathers, loving and not loving children, eating buggers, and so much more. Some of the cards elicit my own memories. Others make my own little troubles quite pale by comparison. When I read one that brings back memories or reminds me of my own thoughts I feel a rush of relief, almost.

I have thought of several I want to send myself now.

The anonymous world attracts me. I leave books (bookcrossing) all over the place; it's nice to find out specifically that they've been picked up but I know they are all picked up and I imagine the next reader or I think of the cleaning person tossing the book in the trash. I send postcards to people all over the world (postcrossing.com), people I do not know and will never meet. I am delighted by the limited, restricted contact I get from this activity. If I send secrets to postsecret I may never know if it makes it to the blog or into the next book. But will that matter? I like this kind of short, abbreviated contact better than I do contact that could develop into something more. Good topic for a postsecret...