by Fred Moleck
Advent Bus Stop
For three weeks now I’ve not been driving. I’ve been using Pittsburgh’s public transport system to transport myself to various places in town.I simply flash my Medicare card upon entering the bus and take my place among the electorate. It doesn’t cost me one penny. In fact, I’ve saved about $60.00.
The bus I usually take—71A The Negley—stops one and a half blocks from my door so I can’t complain about arduous walks in the weather.
That ain’t bad, but there is another tax one has to pay, and it’s a psychological one that taxes my faith.
Sometimes I must wait between five and ten minutes—and one time, fifteen minutes.
That’s the day my romance with the bus began to diminish. I was not alone.
My fellow sojourners and I stood in silent vigil gazing at the street that would provide the passageway to our destiny—shopping at the Giant Eagle Market District and beyond.
There was not much of a wind but the snow was portentous of impending winter anxiety and frustration. We waited for our promised relief, 71A The Negley.
It would be our superhero, our savior, our warm portable harbor in the stormy blast of winter’s assault.
I thought, How long, Lord. How long?
How long must we wait for your warm comfort, your speedy deliverance, your fulfillment of your promise to come and make all things warm?
I consulted my well-worn Port Authority schedule only to discover that I already missed the 7:43 71A, but the 8:02 71A would come by soon and very soon.
The snow began to swirl around our ankles causing some folks to move in tiny sidesteps to increase circulation in their feet.
I, too, joined the choreography, hoping that somehow our small moving together as one people who walked in darkness from our homes would soon experience a new day whose dawn would come, as morning would break.
We were still transfixed gazing eastward as we mourned in lonely exile there at the corner of Negley and Bryant.
We were like people who felt compelled to look east, for we knew that the time is near when the bus would fin’lly appear.
O 70-plus-one, speedily descend and save us.
O Rapid Transport, open your entrance and bid us enter.
O Warmer of hands, embrace our gloved fingers.
O Wheeled Shelter, shield us from wintry terror.
Come quickly, Bus of all buses . . . soon and very soon.
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@comcast.net