Nameless to one another, we sat in our rumbling chairs, seats cushions fashioned from some old 80's disco complex, and struck up a conversation about how time flies; flying beside us as we laughed and loved the noise around us.

He took out the bus pass he'd recently purchased with 42 dollars of his retirement fund. Presented it to me as if it was a golden egg, shining in all it's large and tacky glory. "It's very nice", said I. Hundreds of tiny lines around his eyes hugged, "It gets me where I am." I asked where he was and he said he didn't know, but "As long as he was there, he was."

I knew exactly what he meant.

The bus people were all damp - a result of the rain shredding the island, and as the windows fogged, and as my bus stop appeared out of the peep hole the man had rubbed through the gloom, we rushed to find words to both continue and end our conversation.

He was old. I was applying for crappy jobs. He loves listening. I didn't have a boyfriend. He was shocked. We liked to breathe fresh air.

"A job is just a job. A dream is not 'just' - it's a dream, and that's that. You have your entire life ahead of you. So many dreams. It's not easy. Not hard, though. Sometimes you have to do what you have to, but don't do what you don't, 'cause you'll never be happy, and happy is all you have. I'm happy, and I'm old. I'm 80, but I ride buses and meet lovely people like you, and I'm happy. Don't be unhappy. Go where you want to do, and be who you want to be, ya' hear? Text on your cellphones and find a guy, when you find the guy you'll need. Smile, okay? I wish you luck.

Have a future."

I told him it "was nice to talk with him". We shook hands, and when I stepped off the bus into the fresh air we both love so much I realized that I lied. It wasn't simply 'nice' to have talked with him. It was the best. I should have told him it was "the best". That it made me realize how much I want to be here - travelling, living my life - right now. Not 'then'. Not when I could or should, but now, and I was happy.

When I'm 80 and my eyes crease, I want to be able to say that I travelled, I played, I lost and I won. That I went to Victoria, couldn't pay my rent, but met a man and saw a movie and ate rice and was happy. It doesn't matter what I could have done, or should have. All that matters is that I did, and who I am now.

And right now I'm happy.

; #replies: 0

Nameless to one another, we sat in our rumbling chairs, seats cushions fashioned from some old 80's disco complex, and struck up a conversation about how time flies; flying beside us as we laughed and loved the noise around us.

He took out the bus pass he'd recently purchased with 42 dollars of his retirement fund. Presented it to me as if it was a golden egg, shining in all it's large and tacky glory. "It's very nice", said I. Hundreds of tiny lines around his eyes hugged, "It gets me where I am." I asked where he was and he said he didn't know, but "As long as he was there, he was."

I knew exactly what he meant.

The bus people were all damp - a result of the rain shredding the island, and as the windows fogged, and as my bus stop appeared out of the peep hole the man had rubbed through the gloom, we rushed to find words to both continue and end our conversation.

He was old. I was applying for crappy jobs. He loves listening. I didn't have a boyfriend. He was shocked. We liked to breathe fresh air.

"A job is just a job. A dream is not 'just' - it's a dream, and that's that. You have your entire life ahead of you. So many dreams. It's not easy. Not hard, though. Sometimes you have to do what you have to, but don't do what you don't, 'cause you'll never be happy, and happy is all you have. I'm happy, and I'm old. I'm 80, but I ride buses and meet lovely people like you, and I'm happy. Don't be unhappy. Go where you want to do, and be who you want to be, ya' hear? Text on your cellphones and find a guy, when you find the guy you'll need. Smile, okay? I wish you luck.

Have a future."

I told him it "was nice to talk with him". We shook hands, and when I stepped off the bus into the fresh air we both love so much I realized that I lied. It wasn't simply 'nice' to have talked with him. It was the best. I should have told him it was "the best". That it made me realize how much I want to be here - travelling, living my life - right now. Not 'then'. Not when I could or should, but now, and I was happy.

When I'm 80 and my eyes crease, I want to be able to say that I travelled, I played, I lost and I won. That I went to Victoria, couldn't pay my rent, but met a man and saw a movie and ate rice and was happy. It doesn't matter what I could have done, or should have. All that matters is that I did, and who I am now.

And right now I'm happy.

; #replies: 0