Waiting at the Bus Stop

I’ve not been writing for a while – no good reason, except a lot of nothing on my mind. You know, you’re aware you’re worried and worked up, but it’s not clear why. I do keep a handwritten journal though, and the other day I came across a writing prompt: take an every day moment and make it interesting and creative. So I tried. It felt good to find the value in a simple moment.

Waiting at the Bus Stop

A cold winter’s night, although not as cold as you might expect for the time of year. Gloves and hats do all I need against the December air.

The trams and buses rumble by, ferrying tired souls home after a long day at work. My tram has done its work for the day, dropping me within the city lights, glowing brighter than normal with the extra spirit of the season. Waiting for you, I stroll around the stalls, admiring expensive jewellery, tacky decorations and sparkling gifts.

Gluehwein tempts my nostrils, gingerbread teases my taste buds, and the sound of sizzling sausages delights my ears.

Taking up my station by your bus stop, the cold eventually penetrates my ears and toes. People buzz around me – keen to get home, rushing to get the next bus, chasing the chores before the shops shut, trying to beat the clock.

But I stand still. I am in a hurry for only one thing. For your bus and greeting, your smile and an hour in your company, enjoying the lights and the buzz, before heading home, together, to a quiet evening.


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