history for sale.

you give me a quiet mind
and i love you.

(blatantly appropriated from blue october)

sometimes i'm reminded of how it could have been. how it all could have turned out differently, had i not asked for help 10 years ago. tonight i went out for a few drinks with co-workers, which meant catching whichever bus home i could. in this case, i had to take two. the first ride was unremarkable. i got on the second one after waiting in the cold for a while, so when i boarded all i could think of was gratitude for the warmth.

i sit down, breathe a few times and look around. in the front seats to the left is a family of three; young mother and father and their probably 2 year old boy. across from them was (i believe) a homeless woman with her push-cart and a beautiful, healthy and friendly dog. the woman was older, tired. resigned. as the family got up for their stop, the dog came over and gave the little boy a lick and a nudge as if to say "goodbye." it was sweet, and the mother said so out loud as they were stepping off the bus. the door closed and i looked up at the owner of the dog, who now has tears streaming down her face as she fought silently and unsuccessfully to keep them from spilling over.

i looked away so she wouldn't feel ashamed. i had to wonder if maybe she already did. or if she was remembering her own family from once upon a time. maybe the family she never had but always wanted. i can only imagine where the tears came from, and they disappeared as quickly as they'd come. but i have to think that  they'll come again. if she's feeling it now, it means she hasn't given up. her spirit is still in there, and she hasn't been completely broken.

i hope she finds her way to some place warm.