It hit me on the bus ride home. It was snowing, peacefully. I was watching the same old scene, the same stores, the Taqueria, the vitamin store, the pizza shop, the lights. And the warmth and peacefulness of the warm, full, quiet bus, and the dark but lit road outside, with people bustling across the narrow street. This is what my life is. This is what it could be every single day, in a way. Me staying a little late to help my coworker teammates with a task. Me being ready to do a little more work tonight at 10pm from home, and then some more careful work tomorrow. Everyone just accepting that this is the life, their life.
And it was a beautiful thought, a beautiful moment. Tears flowed down my face while the bus stopped to pick up a cold couple from the bus stop. I didn’t want those people to see me crying, but it didn’t really matter. This is NYC, I generally don’t know these people. But they are part of my neighborhood fabric in a way.
A beauty to accepting this is my life. The life I have been granted. A life I have worked for, and also have been blessed with.
Thank God.
Thankfully….
