I got on board at 8:00 am and I’ll get off at 9:00 … pm that is. That’s a pile of asphalt and, so far, endless trees. For the first two hours, I was freezing, and the hostess gave me some reasoned response about why they couldn’t turn on the heat. After she finished, I was still freezing.
The rains came down and the clouds dropped low. Plus I was awfully hungry. Later a convenience store provided the necessities of coffee, potato chips and a raspberry flaky but I was still grumpy.
Then there was the announcement: “Welcome to ____ Bus Lines. If you’re late getting back on the bus after a rest stop, the driver won’t wait for you. You’ll be responsible for your own transportation. Consuming alcoholic beverages is prohibited. If caught, you’ll be escorted off the bus at the next stop … We hope you enjoy your trip.”
All the window seats are occupied and only a few of the aisle ones. Although I laughed with a few pre-passengers in Port-aux-Basques, now we’re about twenty-five solitudes. Sort of sad but I don’t feel a desire to hop over next to anybody.
I’m noticing that I’ve fallen into the trap of letting my environment dictate my well-being. It’s time to create goodness for myself, and starting this blog post helps.
Hours later, there are no views out the window, just masses of trees. It seems to me that long views are a precious reflection of an expansive life. “Look long into the good light and see the marvels displayed there. Walk towards that light.” That’s it, Bruce. The views are mostly internal. If the good Earth co-operates, I see to the far horizon. If I’m enclosed in a corridor of trees, that’s okay too. Keep looking.
Now it’s movie time on the bus – Sister Act 2. Whoopi Goldberg is the coolest teacher and the disgruntled student Rita is gradually drawn under her wing. Sister Mary Clarence is a magnet. Yay for teachers!
The rain keeps pouring. It’s pooling on the road and we’re creating huge splashes out my window. All is well.
Finally some ponds and meadows. I seek moose. Even a deer would be fine. No one.
It’s nearly dark now. I guess the moose and deer will have to remain in my mind. That’s all right. St. John’s is two hours away and I don’t want to write anymore. I hope you understand.