I felt like he wanted to say something to me, but this is the rush hour commute. No one talks. They are professionals. He smiled at me, though, with the kindest eyes and asked about whether the purple line route would change in the upcoming budget cuts. We started to chat and he was incredibly warm and friendly. I learned about his job (investigating corruption charges for the Elections Board), his time in the military (a tour in Afghanistan), and his childhood (on the South side). We introduced ourselves and I told him that it was my favorite ride into the city yet. It wasn't until I was walking the block to the bus after we said goodbye that I realized it was the kind of heartwarming, genuine interaction my mom had with people all the time. As I got on the bus for the last leg of my commute, I smiled and got a little choked up thinking that maybe she had sent Darrell as a sign that she's with me on my birthday. As I thought this, I looked over and a school bus pulled up alongside us. The kids were laughing and singing and totally oblivious to the adults across from them. The one little girl across from me had a heart drawn into the dust of the window. I got a little choked up, but totally lost it as the bus pulled forward and one dust-heart became dozens (30, perhaps?) with the word "MOM" written smack-dab in the middle. Yep. I cried on the city bus. And I cried about five more times that day just thinking about it and thinking about my wonderful mom who I miss so very much. As excited as I am to turn 30 (see ya, 20s) and as excited as I am for my birthday party next weekend, that day has become the day I mourn my mom the most... and that's not necessarily a bad thing, especially when I have special moments like that.
