Sometimes Perspective Comes on Bus #52

Yesterday was hard. Hell, there are a lot of hard days for me.

I struggle with the loss of our son. I struggle the big questions like whether I could weather another pregnancy in hopes of having a baby.

I mourn Jacob in ways most people will hopefully never understand.

His due date of Nov. 11 looms large on my horizon. I've scheduled a couple of days off before that Saturday just so I can be home, cry at will, and make the memory book that awaits to be created so I can at least have a proper memento.

Today is the anniversary of my Dad's sudden death, so Autumn already has its pall for me, so it's easy to feel sorry these days for all I have had, and all I have lost.

Yesterday, as I got on the bus home, I took an earlier bus than usual. I had a few minutes beforehand at the stop, and stood a ways away from a guy who always smiles at me like he's waiting there just to stop the bus so that I can get on. It's a little weird, but he never speaks to me, and always just smiles. I write him off as a Forrest Gump of sorts, nice, but not someone I'll ever get to know.

This couple is waiting at the bus in intense conversation. The man carries a garbage bag, I presume of his personal belongings, and the woman carries a small box of her things. I don't peer too closely to see what's in it, but most people downtown carry a messenger bag or maybe a suitcase, since those of us with homes don't carry plastic bags or boxes, so I think they must be homeless.

When I get on the bus, I sit behind the couple. iPod plugged in, I'm listening to tunes, but I focus on the homeless couple in front of me. He appears to be sweating, and she wipes his brow. I don't really notice it the first time, but I do the 2nd or 3rd time.

They're younger, maybe in their 40s, and I notice whenever she talks, he smiles, even as she wipes his brow yet again. He must be sick, I think. I wonder where they're sleeping tonight. I find myself wishingh I carried cash so I could give it to them and be an angel in the midst of whatever it is they're going through. Instead, I just watch.

Sure enough another wipe of the brow comes, and I pause the music to see if I can overhear the conversation. I can't, but I can tell she's speaking so soothingly to him, even I smile. There's almost a visual beam of love that goes between this couple, I find myself feeling guilty for watching them and try to mind my own business.

And with it comes a little perspective. For all I go through in this life, I have a husband, pets, and place to call home. But also that love exists no matter where you go if you have the right person beside you.

And for that I am truly thankful.