Notes
The Last Bus
The Last Bus
I think a lot about the old days. Coming home from school. Going to my english class after, and the whole bus ride there carrying the stress of my homework and tomorrow's exam. The casual hangouts with friends back in my hometown — regular, unplanned, the kind I didn't have to check a calendar or a project timeline to make happen. Sitting at the table with my family for dinner.
I can't tell if they were actually good days. They seem good now, and I miss them, and that's true either way. The hard part is that those moments won't come again. There was a last time I sat on that bus with that stress. A last time I saw my friend and we walked down the street with nowhere to be. And maybe that's the good part — that it doesn't repeat.
And that's OK. There's no law in the universe that says you get to keep anything you love forever.