The Bus: Despair and Glimmering Hope

There it is! “Wait, Sir, please!” I begin to run with all the energy I stored up during my slightly- too- lengthy sleep the night before, like an unleashed, fully-cranked wind-up toy. Then comes the sound of indescribable agony. The tires begin to rub against the asphalt, the exhaust begins to exhale its putrid fumes, and then, my heart pounding like a bongo drum played at allegro tempo, it’s gone. I hear the whining of its engine as it sails down Red River, just out of my reach: there it went. Then the sinking spiral of depressive realization begins to set in: I missed the bus--it’s all over-- I’m late for class--what a failure. I start to trudge to the bus stop breathing heavily and collapse on the seat, sinking my head in deep shame. But wait: all those sounds that I was just dreading seem to come alive again, this time bringing brightness, joy, and hope. There, as I turn to my left, is another regal bus, ready to take me onward, looking past my defeats toward the future. I see the horizon, the light at the end of the tunnel, dispelling all my darkness, and I board my coach full of gratitude. And inwardly, in place of all the depressive feelings is the reassuring sentiment of peace: better late than never.