The 8 Bus

Summertime is beautiful because the sun shines and the sun is objectively my favorite star. A mile walk to the bus stop because I didn’t have a car and it was just a bit too far, the traffic a bit too heavy, my bicycle just a bit too unsteady to get to the Walmart on Sundays before work any other way. I used to map it out, texting the bus stop phone number praying I wouldn’t be late.

Sometimes I had a dollar and sometimes I didn’t and sometimes the driver said to keep the change, to put it away towards a better life for myself someday. A ride on the 8 bus a little after 8:00 to buy my groceries and fit them in a backpack that could barely handle the weight. Long outdoor conversations with people who didn’t know how I’d been dating the same guy for so long. I wish back then, I knew the man was wrong for me, knew he was bad for me before we ended up divorced, forget married, but sometimes it takes us making mistakes ourselves before we can see.

Back on the bus in the summer heat and I work three jobs and seven days a week. By the time I’m home I’m already tired and looking forward to a day of being on my feet. I’m the defending featherweight champion, though, always knew it wasn’t as bad as it could be.

I knew back then that when I got a car, I’d be in the business of thanking the good Lord for it daily. A window to new opportunities. Shelter from thunderstorms and a reprieve from the heat that stuck to me and the bike seat. Sweat in my hair and down to my feet. Nasty, but sometimes for a little while, that’s how things have to be. The only way they can be, really, because money can’t buy happiness but it certainly buys some things.

My Malibu came into my life for free, or close to it, anyway. From my teammate’s family when I was biking miles on miles on miles a day because I was broke and couldn’t afford to get around any other way. The moment the keys were mine, my life changed.

My car was a gift from God. Still is. Some people say it’s only worth scrap, but to me, that car is worth its weight in gold. Always praying it won’t give out because it is…old. A little rusty and very dusty because I don’t believe in the car wash. Call me what you want. Rain falls from the sky for free.

I can only hope that someday, I’ll find a man even halfway as faithful as my car, and honestly, I…

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