@brittarnhild
Some days are for reposts. This one was originally posted in January 2015:
Every day a chain of moments. Like beads on a silver string, like cloth pegs on a line. Today had a hard start for me. A bead made of ice.These days walking the road down to the bus stop feels like crossing the arctic. Slippery ice is covering my world. I have never dreamed of crossing the arctic, I have never ever considered it. If you invited me along on an expedition, I would start to talk about something else. About the botanical gardens of our world, about cathcing vongole in the Venetian laguna, about spending a day in Foyles in London, about sunrise in the Himalayas, about sharing a mug of sangria under the sun, about Chopin.
No matter my thoughts and dreams, the road down to the bus stop, which I have to walk twice a day, is like crossing the arctic.
I managed the morning arctic crossing, followed by blood, sweat and tears........well, metaphorically it was. The bus came, I climed in only to find it filled the the brim, and as we came to other stops, more people came, and more people came.
"Tomorrow I´ll take a taxi!" I told myself, "Or I will drive and pay the fortune for the parking house bill. Then I don´t need to cross the arctic again, and I don´t have to stand here like a sardine in a barrel"
Even more people came in, and I was sure I was going to faint. This was all too much for me.
Then a hand touched my shoulder. One of the many imigrant women on the bus looked into my eyes, smiled and said:"Please, take my seat"
I don´t feel old enought to get someones seat on the bus! I am not old enough!! But this morning it was given me by an angle, and I did not have to say yes or no.
All I had to do was to meet her eyes, smile and take the seat.
I know she saw and felt my gratitude.
Every day a chain of moments. Like beads on a silver string.
I collect the most beautiful pearls and make them into a neclace of life.
