Bus – #SoCS Sept. 24/16

img_2389

On a Sunday morning, I’m probably the youngest person on the bus – and believe you me, I’m no teenager! Nor am I in my twenties or thirties… sigh!

But that got me thinking. Just because I am physically the youngest, does that mean I am also the youngest mentally? If I have my health and all my mental faculties about me when I’m a pensioner (or senior, as people of a certain age are known in other countries), I want to see the funny, light side of life. I want to find joy in the most mundane of things, have a cheeky sense of humour and not feel constricted by deadlines, by the Monday to Friday routine, by all those matters that can weigh us down when we’re of (standard) working age.

I have wondered, every now and again, what is going on in the minds of my older fellow travellers. I hope they are enjoying life in the way I aspire to, when I reach their age. They’ve contributed to society, paid their way, put the hours in. I think they deserve to kick back and wear a cheeky grin, don’t you?


 

It’s Saturday (hurrah!) so that means it’s time for the lovely Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, and this week she invites us to write using the word ‘bus’, or a word that includes it.

Please do hope on over to her blog to enjoy what others have written!

Emergency Stop – Friday Fictioneers

Here is this week’s entry into the weekly challenge brought to us by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Here are the rules: Use the photo as inspiration, write a hundred(ish) words – and share! Here goes my offering for this week – and I welcome your comments again!

Copyright Indira

Copyright Indira

– Emergency Stop –

This is where it happens, the moment that changes my life. This is where I step out – my old world stops.

That’s what happens when you don’t pay attention. Life’s carefully crafted plan disappears in a squeal of brakes and rubber.

I’m lucky. The bus driver sees me at the last second.

I’m watching as my old life turns to dust in the distance. I open the window, shove my briefcase out, closely followed by my tie, jacket and hand-tooled shoes. A one way ticket to the airport is crumpled and sweaty in my hand.

My new life start here.

Click the blue froggy to read other writers’ offerings – and enjoy!