A Voice in the Heat

A lady stands at the street crossing, so I don’t push the signal button. The light changes. We do not get the WALK sign. After two cars turn, the road clears. Time remains on the light cycle. I reach the other curb, and I tap to the bus stop bench. I arrive before the early bus.

Direct sunlight shines on me. No, aims and tracks like a shade sniper on my air-conditioned skin. The cloudless sky and slow breezes offer no shield. No biggie. My bus will be here in five minutes.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m still on the bench. Three more people wait with me. A guy passes us, “Bus broke down a couple of blocks back,” he says as he continues to walk up the road.

Ok. Still, no biggie. My bus runs every half hour.

That one is on time. I board the bus, scan my fare card and take a seat by the rear exit. The bus is full. It feels like we stop every block. No one chats much; we all daydream. My hair absorbs the humidity, stretching the limits of my elastic hair band.

We round the turn before my destination. I pull the cord, requesting my departure. The guy next to me glances at my white cane that I hold in front of me.

The bus waits for a stoplight. I stare out the window, watching traffic. The bus rolls forward, and I look over at the sidewalk. I spot the building I walk past after my corner. Oh no.

“Stop!” I say from my seat, searching the landscape. The guy next to me glances over and raises an eyebrow. I see a street intersection.

“Is that Chesterfield?” I say, my mouth scrunched to the side. Hmm. I mixed up two buildings that sit across Chesterfield. It’s not my stop yet.

“Sorry,” I say to no one and everyone as the bus brakes in front of my corner. I stand up and slink toward the rear exit. “I’m the blind one. I guess I get a little slack for that. It must be the heat.” A few riders chuckle. I push the door open, cringing at my disorientation.

A cool wind brushes my shoulders and tempers the flush of my cheeks. I can’t help but grin. I straighten up and maneuver down the sidewalk, heading to my husband’s office.

 

 

Thanks for visiting today. I hope you enjoy reading Adventures in Low Vision as much as I enjoy writing it.

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4 Comments Add yours

  1. ptat says:

    back in the day, you would’ve *smelled* your way to chesterfield..

    1. And, you would promise to NEVER EVER walk home from Chesterfield by yourself 😉

  2. herheadache says:

    That sounds like it was quite the adventure. 🙂 Love your blog.

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