Tuesday, November 1, 2011
I was on my way to the nursing home, Tuesday night, when it dawned on me that I was in a semi-euphoric state. I had just missed the bus that I take regularly and took a completely different bus on the off-chance that it might make up for lost time.
It was an impulsive move, the sort of thing people do when in the grip of powerful emotions. It also illustrated, once again, just how narrow a margin of error I've been operating on for the last year and a half; a moment spent at work talking to my boss or to the the receptionist on my way out could result in a twenty minute time lag by the time I reached Flushing.
I saw the real nursing home bus out the corner of my eye as it sailed by the second bus. There were so few passengers on it that it beat the red light at the first major intersection and left us at the corner. Amazingly, the nursing home bus was still waiting by the time the light changed. But, did I run to get it? No. I approached like it was a mirage about to disappear, which in a way it was. The doors shut just as soon as I woke up and began sprinting toward it.
In no time at all, I had completely forfeited my visit to Mom. The next bus would not get me there in time before she was put to bed. I waited twenty minutes before giving up and taking the #7 train back to Brooklyn. It was a long trip back.
It was an impulsive move, the sort of thing people do when in the grip of powerful emotions. It also illustrated, once again, just how narrow a margin of error I've been operating on for the last year and a half; a moment spent at work talking to my boss or to the the receptionist on my way out could result in a twenty minute time lag by the time I reached Flushing.
I saw the real nursing home bus out the corner of my eye as it sailed by the second bus. There were so few passengers on it that it beat the red light at the first major intersection and left us at the corner. Amazingly, the nursing home bus was still waiting by the time the light changed. But, did I run to get it? No. I approached like it was a mirage about to disappear, which in a way it was. The doors shut just as soon as I woke up and began sprinting toward it.
In no time at all, I had completely forfeited my visit to Mom. The next bus would not get me there in time before she was put to bed. I waited twenty minutes before giving up and taking the #7 train back to Brooklyn. It was a long trip back.