When I was young, no more than a five year old, I would ask questions. Some simple, answered by an obvious answer, and some that would require me or any other person to do some critical thinking. Keeping in mind, I was just a child then. If you were to ask me what would I like to be when I grow up, I would respond with stereotypical answers, such as a fireman, a policeman, or the answer that captures the "Awe"s and "Oh"s of people:I would say, I wanna be just like you.
Time then passes, and just like the human body, our minds advances and acts differentially as well. Kids are no longer as childish as they were, and some seemed to out grow their friends from the past. They would make new friends, or stay home and go on the internet daily, surfing the web for anything to past the time. Still, we are asked questions, and some might know the answer, but most of us guess and hope for the best. Just like when we were kids, we would still be asked "What are you going to do, when you leave high school?" or, some question that is similar to "What do you want to be when you grow up?". Now, this time we actually think of what we want to do with our lives. Some would like to go to collage, study more subjects in order to get a bachelors or masters degree. Others would like to have a simple job, such as an accountant or a something that pays good money for a family of four.
Then there's me. Well, there's people like me, not sure what wanting to do with their lives. Some would work at a dead-end job, like a factory or a fast food restaurant, making enough money to feed yourself and live in an apartment. And yet, even though some of us do have a family, a job, a roof over our heads, we are still asked a question, much similar to what was asked when we were younger.
"Is this what you really want to do with your life?"
This still bothers me. Even though I'm a healthy man, one who actually cares about his future and loves his mother and father with all of his heart, I am still mentally attacked by the frustration and fear of change.
But today is different. Today is the day I start my new, first job since I was sixteen. Yes, it does pay eight dollars an hour, and yes I am moving into a cheap apartment in about a month, but at least I am happy that I, much like a new chapter, am beginning my life as an adult.
But life doesn't always go as you plan it, much like how I planned mine. Let me explain.
As I drive downtown to start my day at my new job, my fathers old car decided it would be better for me to walk in the cold than to drive there safely. It's early March, a month I was expecting to have a bit of sunshine, but this cold wind says otherwise.
"Damn." I say, unbuckling my seatbelt so I would be able to move. "It's too dark to walk in this cold." My job started at 7:30 P.M., and ended around 7:00 o'clock in the morning. I knew it was going to be a problem with my sleeping pattern, but I figured that I can get use to it. Besides, I'm only a couple of blocks away, I know I can make it on time.
I called a pickup truck before I left, and the man called back, saying that he brought the car back to my parents house. He knew my father, and though I never really talked to him, he gladly took the car without a problem. Now, all I had to worry about is making it on time, and yes, I could've took a shortcut and go through the alley's, but I don't want to get mugged.
I finally made it to my new job, happy that I made it without a scratch on me.
Tired, I am very tired. I guess I was right about my sleeping pattern, I need to change it if I want to come to work up and awake. Today was more of a training course than me starting my actual job. I chuckle . "Mondays..."
Walking here wasn't the problem, since my dads car stopped only a few blocks away. But I lived with my parents, for the time being, in their cozy little home about a mile away in the city. By car, it's only a fifteen minute drive, but if I walk, it'll take me a full hour. I decided it would be best for me to take the bus, I don't want to get mugged this early in the morning.
I walked over to the nearest bus stop, where I find myself standing between an old women, possibly in her mid 60's, and a child, hand being held by a monther who appeared to be in her early 30's. I look down at the child. He was bit small, a first grader at the most. He was wearing a heavy coat and a scarf, hopping around near a small puddle. I smiled at him, remembering when I use to be that small, doing the same thing he's doing when I would wait for the school bus. I've seen this women and her child a few times around this bus stop, letting me know that they take the city bus instead of the school bus.
I turned to my left, where I saw the old women standing around in a large, cozy jacket. She closed her eyes, and I could hear her humming a soft tone, a song I once heard before, when my father would take out and old cassette and play it.I smiled at this, I didn't know why, but I just did. It could be because she lived a happy life, with a family that loved her, and she was just thankful for that.
"Momma? Who's that man?"
The women stopped humming. Her eyes opened, and I could see that she was terrified, like she wanted to run away and never come back. Her face became very pale, and I could see her wrinkles through the make up she wore. I started to feel worried for her, she looked like she's seen a ghost!
"Ma'm? Ma'm are you okay?" I didn't want to startle her, so I only nudged her with my elbow. When she didn't talk, or even move, I was worried that she is having a stroke, and is in so much pain to even talk. I walked in front of her, placing both of my hands on her shoulder. "Is everything okay?!" She still didn't move, but I could see her mouth moving, as if she was screaming for help, wanting anybody to bring her out of her stroke. I acted quickly and dialed 9-1-1, talking quickly but calmly. "Yes, this woman is having a stroke! She's standing near me and a mother with her child. We are at the Old Goldy Train Station, please send the paramedics as fast as you can!" I hang up the phone, talking to the old women. She doesn't seem to hear me, but her eyes widened when another woman screamed, and a child, most likely the one next to me, spoke.
"Momma look! The man with the stick is coming over here!"
I tried sitting the old woman on the bench, but she didn't bend her knees. She started to walk, pushing me out of the way. I tried to get her attention to come back, but she didn't stop walking, she was still going at the slow pace she was. I then started to see people gather around, also shouting for her to stop. The kid next to me started to cry, and I looked down at him.
"I don't like the man, mommy! His eyes scare me!"
What man? I looked at the general direction the boy was pointing at, but all I could see was the old woman walking to the center of the street, and-
*BEEP BEEP*
Everything that made noise stopped. I could feel my heart jumping up and down in my chest, every thump I felt made me feel like I was being punched in my chest repeatedly. I looked down the street, and my eyes widened in fear. The city bus was moving too fast then it should be, and it was heading straight down the road. The old woman would be flattened like a pancake. Everyone around her screamed, and I could see tears running down her face, only because the street light was on her.
"Momma! Make the bad man go away!"
The bus was getting faster, and people only gathered around, some shouting, wanting to get her attention in order to move, and others stayed quiet, wanting to see what would happen. The bus was only 30 feet away.
"Make him go away!"
20 feet...
"Wait, was is that person doing!?"
10 feet...
I close my eyes, wanting anything to happen.
5 feet...
"MOVE!"