The bus

From 1993 to 2013 I didn't own a car. The Geneva public transportation system was so good, I didn't need one. I was even able to save enough money to buy a studio for cash.

In 2013 I married, and we bought a vehicle. We use the bus less these days.

This morning I was up at 6:30 to ride into town with my husband. His intensive French course starts at 8:30. We caught the E bus at the top of the hill.

On the ride, I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed people watching on the bus. Sometimes I even add what I've seen to my fiction. Other times it is a blog and always it is pleasure.

Although a nice man offered me his seat (Do I look that old and helpless?), there was one free left. I thanked him and told him he was kind.

When I sat the girl next to me was finishing her algebra homework in one of her notebooks. The schools here and France have a notebook system that I've found intriguing. For years, I've used them for my journals because the quadrangle, light-blue lines help my writing be readable.

A father and son were chatting like they really liked each other. How do I know they liked each other? By their soft laughter and smiles. How do I know the relationship? Identical profiles and coloring.

Two women each had hard suitcases on wheels. I don't know if they were traveling together or not, but they got off where they could make a connection to the train station or airport. They didn't speak.

The memory of sitting next to a man reading a book with ordinary type in French cropped up. When he got off the same place I did, he opened his white cane and proceeded to walk down the street.

 The bus ride was only about 20 minutes, but entertaining.