Morning bus, Catolina - 2007

We waited for our morning buses together. He's beautiful, thin and taller than me with long shiny black hair he wares tied loosely at his neck, warm dark round eyes, and pale moon like skin. He looks tied and intellectual, there is something warm and sad about him. I think he's Japanese, but i don't know, we never spoke. We would arrive at the buss stop at almost the same time, he from one direction and me from the other. He caught the buss that left 10mins before mine, and we would watch each other part as his buss drove off. I know he looked forward to the buss just as i did, he always took the window seat closest to wherever i was waiting, outside on the hot footpath for my bus to come and carry me off to my boring office job. I noticed him the first time i caught the bus. I just thought he was the most beautiful and intriguing man i had ever seen. It wasn't till a few weeks later when my eyes followed him onto the bus that i noticed he was staring at me. I used to call him my morning joy, my secret dream before another day of filling and making coffee, in my boring grey office. I dressed up for him, short skirts, stockings, too high heels and expensive tops and perfumes. I was always to shy to talk to him. We watched each other like separating lovers, my heart ached with need, longing, sadness and curiosity. He dressed in long beige business pants, dark ties, white shirts and usually a beige sports jacket, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. I mused that he was a computer technician, or an accountant, something as dull as my own job, and that i was his morning joy too. I was much to shy to talk to him, i just pleaded with my eyes, hoping and praying he would ask for me. It wasn't till one Saturday, I saw him walking down the street with his two lovely children in tow, i realised why he never spoke. One girl and one boy about six and four years old, and for the first time i saw the thin gold band on a special finger of his left hand. I would never take that, not to a married man, not from a family. And so we continued our silent tradition for six months or more, until i moved house and had to catch my bus elsewhere. I still saw him on buses, and sometimes around town. But now i drive to work and live out of town, i wonder if he notices my absence? I wonder if we had met without the gold band, if things would have been different? But mostly i wonder and hope that we will meet again. I would so love to here his voice, just once.