Pa and I waited at the bus stop. Only stops when someone buys a ticket though. Greyhound 1454.
“This is how your mom and I met.” Pa spoke. He looked out west.
“At a bus stop?” I punched his shoulder. He laughed.
He put his arm around me. “No, college.”
Certain point, a child reaches a place where they ask questions about their parents or not. I figured a few years back it was too late to ask some things. I’d learned what I thought I needed to know.
“I’m proud of you.” Pa looked out back west. “Sorry ma didn’t come.”
“Well, I figure there are some things harder on moms.” Mom told me she couldn’t watch me get on the bus, it was hard enough on her already.
“Like saying goodbye.” Pa leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands. He ground his toe in the dirt.
“Like saying goodbye.” I stood up and paced around the bench. “I’m coming back, holidays and such.”
“She knows.”
“How’d you like
“Liked it well enough, spent more time in
“Folks talk faster there, I hear.” I sat down and leaned back with my hands behind my head, the noon sun in my face.
“Well. I reckon a long time ago folks got tired of listening to each other. Now they figure they got to speak as fast as they can to get heard.”
“Wonder if I’ll still call this home.”
“Always be home, no matter what you call it.”
The Greyhound glinted in the distance.
“Looks like it’s about time.” Pa stood and collected my bags from the back of the truck.
I helped him. “You think it will be like on TV?”
“Some. Here ain’t like most places.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” I sat on my suitcase.
“Folks believe a lot of things, make choices we don’t make. Have more to choose from to begin with.”
“They don’t believe in God the way we do?” I looked up at
“Well now, God don’t change, just what people think of Him.” Pa rubbed my hair.
“So if I follow God the way I think of Him…” I didn’t finish my sentence before Pa took over.
“It’s a different world out there. I reckon when I see you next, you’ll have new eyes.”
“New eyes. Like the hymn.” I said
“Like the hymn.”
Matt Zink
