the bus.

Riding the bus home from the mission has become a favorite activity of mine, aside from having to fight off nausea and the bus drivers who have the idea in their heads that they are actually driving a racecar instead of a 48-passenger bus; I enjoy the world and culture the bus cultivates. A wide variety of vendors ask the drivers permission to share the stories of their lives, sell candies and other sweet treats or the musicians who want to play a sweet melody.

Last week, I was dosing in and out of consciousness when I received a friendly tap on the shoulder from Laura-Catherine, (we both usually end up sitting one in front of another so we each can enjoy the window seat, which we are convinced is a remedy for our motion sickness), she motioned with her eyes to the harp player who had just lugged his extremely large instrument over the turn stile and into the crowded isle of the bus. The moment he began to play the normal hustle and bustle transformed into a calm and enjoyable atmosphere, as we all together, escaped our own thoughts and worlds for a few moments as we listened to the unexpected beauty the harpist gifted us with.