There are days when you wake up and things just happen.
Take last Monday for instance. I had my usual retinologist appointment to go to. The usual three hour bus ride there loomed large in my day, the even longer afternoom three hour bus ride home was even looming larger.
The bus came as usual, we made the usual stop outside the local state prison to pick up about twelve former inmates released that day, returning home to all parts of California and beyond. Their questions even go the same way as all other ex-inmates returning home. :What time do we get to the Greyhound?" "Where do we stopp?" "Where do I get cigarettes?"
The bus winds its way across the seemingly endless roads past vineyards and cornfields. Then, What? We didn't make our usual left back there. Instead we roll up to a stop light.
"Bugger!" I mutter. A diversion how much longer will this add to the journey? We turn right and move to the next light. Then left, we don't make a full turn and pull into the edge of a vineyard. A Highway patrol car sits there. Then a County Sheriff car and another, and another Highway Patrol car.
Two County Sheriff Deputies walk to the bus door. The Driver opens it and they board, call a name and the man across the aisle from me answers. One of the former prisoners. He gathers his things and exits the bus. Bundles into one of the Sheriff's cars and is gone. Leaving a passion of excitement behind.
So what had been just another day, the same as any other is no longer just that. Now a day that was full of things. A day that will mark itself as different. A day unlike any other.
Take last Monday for instance. I had my usual retinologist appointment to go to. The usual three hour bus ride there loomed large in my day, the even longer afternoom three hour bus ride home was even looming larger.
The bus came as usual, we made the usual stop outside the local state prison to pick up about twelve former inmates released that day, returning home to all parts of California and beyond. Their questions even go the same way as all other ex-inmates returning home. :What time do we get to the Greyhound?" "Where do we stopp?" "Where do I get cigarettes?"
The bus winds its way across the seemingly endless roads past vineyards and cornfields. Then, What? We didn't make our usual left back there. Instead we roll up to a stop light.
"Bugger!" I mutter. A diversion how much longer will this add to the journey? We turn right and move to the next light. Then left, we don't make a full turn and pull into the edge of a vineyard. A Highway patrol car sits there. Then a County Sheriff car and another, and another Highway Patrol car.
Two County Sheriff Deputies walk to the bus door. The Driver opens it and they board, call a name and the man across the aisle from me answers. One of the former prisoners. He gathers his things and exits the bus. Bundles into one of the Sheriff's cars and is gone. Leaving a passion of excitement behind.
So what had been just another day, the same as any other is no longer just that. Now a day that was full of things. A day that will mark itself as different. A day unlike any other.
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