The 407
I take the bus with some very special people. Some would vulgarize the word special to describe them. Others would refer to them as special needs. I just think they're special.
It's been 5 or 6 years since I first rode the bus with some of them. There's a co-op near my house, or a group home perhaps, where they live together. I am struck by the unique qualities of community that they exhibit to the world around them.
I used to be afraid of them. Avoiding eye contact, sitting far from their front-of-the-bus privileged seats. Maybe I was afraid of exposing my true ugly nature in my disdain for them. Perhaps I was just afraid because they were different.
I don't remember which day or year it was, but I remember a moment of beauty that took hold of my heart and transformed it. It may have been a laugh, light-hearted and care-free like a child's, or a genuine smile I caught a glimpse of - whatever it was, it was beautiful.
Ever since that moment, I have seen my bus mates in a different light. They are still different from me, but not so different after all. If they are so different, it is to my shame I'm afraid. While they exhibit childish behaviour and often hold silly grudges or make leaps of logic, there is something important that they have to teach me about life.
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I climb aboard the 407. But before I can do that, the man with the hat steps back to let me on first. A true gentleman. "Go ahead" he says, each morning without reprieve. Today he wasn't at the bus stop. Jenn and I were disappointed. Two steps into the bus and my tired ears are greeted with the sounds of life - laughter, chuckles, welcomes, updates on the events of the week. My heart struggles to hold its composure.
I used to find refuge near the back, but lately I sit close to the front seats that they occupy. I enjoy listening to their chatter, gossiping about why so-and-so isn't on today, what happened on the weekend, whose going to work today. There is never a dull moment on the 8am 407.
You may think that such a group would be homogeneous and each would blend into the other, but this is not the case. Each person on my bus has a very unique personality. They vary in their degrees of engagement, some laugh without reserve, others glance around nervously when the noise rises a little too high. My favorite part of each morning is the inevitable "shh" from among them indicating that the noise has risen beyond a comfortable level.
Over the years, this group has exhibited many things to me. I see so much beauty in their child-likeness. Yet, they are not completely like children. They are mature adults like me who see the world and live in it. Yet they consistently see the best in things, which I often fail to do. They love. I have seen this for myself, naively astonished at first, I am ashamed to say. Something about their love is remarkable as well. They love almost without condition. There are always grudges and misunderstandings, but there is a sense of unconditional acceptance among them that I cannot ignore.
They have humbled me time after time. My chronic bad attitude is chronically put right by their charm and love. I am often ashamed of myself when faced with their joy. I am ashamed of my judging spirit when I see their beauty, which the darker part of me tries to forget and the world ignores. I fight to keep my eyes and heart open, but my nature is dark and my heart is stone. I far to often let their examples be lost on me.
Why has this experience touched me so? I'm not sure that I can put my finger on it precisely. Like many important moments in life, it just isn't easily explained. I know, however, that I will never look at a special person the same way again. I will fight against the easy urge to dehumanise them, to forget that they are real just like me. I will try to love with the joy of a child and the abandon of real self-confidence that they have shown me.
Thank you 407.
It's been 5 or 6 years since I first rode the bus with some of them. There's a co-op near my house, or a group home perhaps, where they live together. I am struck by the unique qualities of community that they exhibit to the world around them.
I used to be afraid of them. Avoiding eye contact, sitting far from their front-of-the-bus privileged seats. Maybe I was afraid of exposing my true ugly nature in my disdain for them. Perhaps I was just afraid because they were different.
I don't remember which day or year it was, but I remember a moment of beauty that took hold of my heart and transformed it. It may have been a laugh, light-hearted and care-free like a child's, or a genuine smile I caught a glimpse of - whatever it was, it was beautiful.
Ever since that moment, I have seen my bus mates in a different light. They are still different from me, but not so different after all. If they are so different, it is to my shame I'm afraid. While they exhibit childish behaviour and often hold silly grudges or make leaps of logic, there is something important that they have to teach me about life.
Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I climb aboard the 407. But before I can do that, the man with the hat steps back to let me on first. A true gentleman. "Go ahead" he says, each morning without reprieve. Today he wasn't at the bus stop. Jenn and I were disappointed. Two steps into the bus and my tired ears are greeted with the sounds of life - laughter, chuckles, welcomes, updates on the events of the week. My heart struggles to hold its composure.
I used to find refuge near the back, but lately I sit close to the front seats that they occupy. I enjoy listening to their chatter, gossiping about why so-and-so isn't on today, what happened on the weekend, whose going to work today. There is never a dull moment on the 8am 407.
You may think that such a group would be homogeneous and each would blend into the other, but this is not the case. Each person on my bus has a very unique personality. They vary in their degrees of engagement, some laugh without reserve, others glance around nervously when the noise rises a little too high. My favorite part of each morning is the inevitable "shh" from among them indicating that the noise has risen beyond a comfortable level.
Over the years, this group has exhibited many things to me. I see so much beauty in their child-likeness. Yet, they are not completely like children. They are mature adults like me who see the world and live in it. Yet they consistently see the best in things, which I often fail to do. They love. I have seen this for myself, naively astonished at first, I am ashamed to say. Something about their love is remarkable as well. They love almost without condition. There are always grudges and misunderstandings, but there is a sense of unconditional acceptance among them that I cannot ignore.
They have humbled me time after time. My chronic bad attitude is chronically put right by their charm and love. I am often ashamed of myself when faced with their joy. I am ashamed of my judging spirit when I see their beauty, which the darker part of me tries to forget and the world ignores. I fight to keep my eyes and heart open, but my nature is dark and my heart is stone. I far to often let their examples be lost on me.
Why has this experience touched me so? I'm not sure that I can put my finger on it precisely. Like many important moments in life, it just isn't easily explained. I know, however, that I will never look at a special person the same way again. I will fight against the easy urge to dehumanise them, to forget that they are real just like me. I will try to love with the joy of a child and the abandon of real self-confidence that they have shown me.
Thank you 407.
Labels: story
11:25 p.m.
Michelle. Hang on to this moment you have. These times where you feel quite humbled and blessed by these fellow bus riders will be needed in future times. I am glad you shared this story. It helps put us all back in our place. I love you! top
11:55 p.m.
That's awesome. Thanks M. top