Going places

Dear Diary:

I thought about getting out of bed eventually, and then finally did. I'd showered and laundered yesterday so today would be a breeze. And only one bus to take. Well, two if you include the little DARTS bus.

I'm in clean clothes with Jim Morrison shirt anchored under my Jabba-the-Hut belly. Got my standard gear, two bottles of wine, birthday card, notebook, pens. Forget the coat; its like summer almost. And forget my Presto (transit) card because it's lost and therefore I must buy a GO ticket from a machine and swiftly because DARTS was 22 minutes late picking me up. But both machines at the GO station reject my purchase attempts (three times each) and I can't seem to stop myself from loudly cursing though I've no wish to draw attention. I cannot miss this GO bus! and at the last minute I'm on it and pleading my case to the driver who lets me in with no ticket.

Another nice man gives up his roomy front seat so I can sit there with walker before me, clinging to it, even with its ornamental "brakes" supposedly engaged, trying to keep it from crashing around the wide aisle as the bus careens around corners.

My folks and I converge at the park-and-ride and they haul me and my gear to brother's house where we celebrate Pops' 76th birthday with booze, nibblies, excellent coffee and of course a hockey game on the toob. And eventually dinner and cake. The niece is two now and starting to gab, and its a joy to finally communicate with this beautiful creature. I gape and snicker at anything she does and she giggles at me delightedly.

The boy is now in grade one and a veritable encyclopedia of animals and dinosaurs. He reads me a simple story about fire trucks before springing into his typical hyper hijinks. Mom, Dad, Grandpa and Nana all take their turns admonishing him and on some occasions he seems hurt. I never do that. Surely we need at least one good-cop; no?

He squeezes onto the couch between my mom and I while she reads a storybook aloud. I make one teasing gesture at him and he's off on a wrestling/boxing campaign against me. I do my best to survive for some time and then beg a reprieve. Dad barks at him. "It's my fault," I say. "I wound him up."

"Stop trying to take the blame for my kids' behaviour!" he says. I didn't know I'd done that before.

The night gets on and the boy wants me to come see his room. I remind him that Uncle has bad legs. He suggests I could at least try. And I do. I climb the damn stairs and arrive at his room. "I have to sit!" I say.

"He points at the comfy armchair; he and mom's reading chair, and says, "I have a chair for people with leg problems!" Later the others would have a great laugh at that.

Soon its time to leave and I struggle and rise. The boy looks sad and presses his cheek to my hip. I cup his shoulder. "I'll see you again soon. Okay buddy?"

The bus home features a more typical arrangement at the front. Two trios of inward-facing seats which are hinged. One set is up, out of use and blocked by bulky luggage. On the other is a young white athletic man, a black woman and a little girl of middling complexion, my niece's age. I cannot possibly sit on my walker seat or leave it alone to become a loose cannon. And I cannot fit it down the narrower aisle toward the rear where there might be a couple available seats. I hesitate and look around.

"I'll move," says the black woman and she jumps up and moves a few strides down to the first empty seat.

"No, I don't want to split you up!"

"It's okay," they say. Their stop is coming up soon. I sit down gratefully and try to rein in my mechanical beast.

"That's what these seats are for," says the guy, nodding at the beast, his daughter on his lap.

I nod at the stroller and say, "Well you've got your burdens too." As if to explain, I then add, "I just came from my brother's place. He has a girl the same age." Dad and daughter have much fun together and I am very happy. These colourish kids strike me very dearly. It's like looking into the future. It's like they carry the flame for a better humanity one day. 

At the end of my ride he wishes me well and I can't resist touching him on the shoulder and saying, "You have a very beautiful family." He thanks me and his expression is that of surprisingly real gratitude.