Original date of post: Wednesday, April 20th, 2011.

I've had a long transit commute for 2 years now and I have, with little doubt, seen all the nonsense and all the greatness that our society can dish up. Oh, the diversity! Gee whiz people. Indeed, to be twice daily amongst this march of characters may be a prevailing reason why I do it in the first place. Other than to travel to and from the job that I love, simply because it changed my life. Actually, I spent my first months on transit trying to sum up the experience of transit. Trying to find the perfect way to describe that the bus was a microcosm of whatever it is a microcosm of. Everyone thrown in like pinballs entering the glass-enclosed machine only to get completely shoved into each other for reaction, all being tested to not react; sneaking looks at each other's text messages, how the hell do bus drivers do this job oh my goodness it's gnarly, analyzing outfits, trying to remember what we're supposed to remember, trying to forget what we would like to forget . . . we doze and drown out, get low but look alive.

Entering a bus or train requires darting, quick visual scans of each and every rider to try and assess what you really got yourself into today. All this while trying to look cool. As if your really just reading watching a TED lecture on your phone. Eh. I could go on forever really, but I'll stop. Save it for another day. I'll talk just about today.

There's a few things that I've seen only very few times. I'm talking like maybe 3 times total, maybe. So, uh, great work day today, then shopped for great stuff, got a great snack and then left the city for home. Varied up the ipod a little more, enjoyed that muchly. Different crowd on train cuz it's a little later, cool, i get to bump up the people watching. And then I see it. It's always on mute cuz she's not close to me and I have headphones on. She's on the phone and it's not bad yet, but I think even then I knew. Is it because I been there before? But I haven't. She's older, old enough to have little grandchildren. She's done so much more. If she looks at me will we see that we are the same? 

Maybe it doesn't matter cuz all pain is the same. Wait, that's not true, that's not smart. well, how can anyone really know anyways. I look to see if anyone else sees it. I look at her knowing that she's not looking at anything because she wants everything to turn into nothing for a long time. Or at least until she gets to her car or her home. . . because this woman is standing up straight because she is strong, she has grace in her face and she has experience in her eyes. She is fighting back large tears. She is fighting them not because of you or me or them, she is just fighting them because they have come and she wants them to come and she wants them to go. She is sadness AND peace AND strength AND power. And they have nothing and everything to do with her tears. She's known for a long time that she can't even start to dream of salvation, only for the winds to not blow away every single leaf. She's lived with just one before. Above all this, she knows like a parent knows it's child's eyes that her roots will always do their job, just as long as she can keep looking out the window and allow the nothing to take her until she has to meet the fight again. I'm amazed at this sight. It's not new nor is it even certain, but I know only that it is amazing and that I cannot help but let it stop my day, if only for the two minutes in between train platforms. I am amazed because it is amazing. It looks beautiful because it is beautiful.