The Unprepared Quiet

Today I got to go home on the regular bus for the first time in a while.

I'd forgotten what it was like to go home right after school. I wasn't prepared.

But I settled into a seat on the left side vaguely near the back, blurred into the scenery of the seats. I snuggled up next to the window, my arm on my backpack. It was strangely warm and comfortable.

And I imagined all sorts of things.

I stared at the cement fenceposts whipping past, like paper dolls or sashaying ballet dancers.

I traced a capital letter 'N' over and over in my mind, because I liked the way it felt there.

I realized the piano riff on the current NeedToBreathe song, which was repeating like a skipping record player in my brain, reminded me of one in a George Thorogood song.

I imagined the small purple flowers dotting the grass outside were twice their size and blanketing a sunny field, which I rested in as the breeze moved the grass like a stormy ocean.

I wondered why all the sad songs on my ipod were making me think of happy summer days, and the cheerful songs made me want to cry.

I never took my eyes from the windows, yet I knew that Marissa Mclendon and Collin Peck were in the seat across from me. Michael Elliot was in front of them. In front of him was Lisa Reynolds and Justin Sotinco, both of whose looks made them look like either cousins or an attractive couple.

I noticed everything. But I didn't say anything.

The incessant babbling of those around me seemed to soften into a lulling murmur that sent my worries into a slumber. My tired muscles settled into their comfortable positions, and my blood moved slowly through me.

I remembered one night while laying in bed, and when I got very still and quiet, I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. Then in my hands, and even all the way down in my toes.

Everything got very still.

I was completely peaceful.

The stopping of the bus at the first stop jolted the edges of the dreamlike state a little, but I hung on.

Finally, my corner approached. The warmth faded as I slipped out of my seat and into the aisle. 

I stepped outside and a chilly gust sent my bangs to the wrong side of my forehead. "I'll Follow You Into  The Dark" faded and Britt Nicole came pounding into my ears.

The quiet had ended.

But some part of me, thin as a whisper, was left behind in that seat.