“Honey, never forget you’re awesome… you’re just sitting in the wrong seat, on the wrong bus,” my girlfriend said, consoling me.
I’m banging on the door, begging the bus driver to stop so I don’t miss my stop. He ignores me and keeps driving. The more I beg to get off, the faster he drives. Stop after stop flies by. Thoughts of jumping flashes through my brain but just as quickly ugly images of bloody gashes and broken bones flashes through my mind, keeping me frozen in my seat.
Fear. An ugly companion.
The bus turns a corner. Slows. My heart leaps. Was now my chance? Can I get off now? Would he let me go now?
A new bus driver steps onboard, sits down and the bus races on ignoring my request to let me get off at my stop. Instead, her hooded eyes sternly staring at me from the rear windshield mirror, tells me I’m on the wrong bus (like I didn’t already know that -ugg). Her words harsh as stones, fire at me, reminding me I don’t belong in the seat assigned and there is no place for me on her bus and there are no stops for the likes of me.
The bus stops.
The doors open – to an empty dirt road.
I get off the bus. It drives away.
Fear greets me.
I look closer. Behind Fear sits Potential.
Stepping around Fear I embrace my Potential.
Thank you, D., for reminding me that there is always another bus on its way.