Today I had the delightful experience of being part of my city. A bus took me to an appointment, and I /gasp! got there on time. My fellow passengers were so quiet and orderly, knowing their place in the world and the required etiquette of mass transit. I think it would have been cool if someone had all of a sudden stood up and did the Macarena. But instead we were the usual, wonderful amazing and still-hidden essential parts of a wheel turning effortlessly, getting on, getting off, staying in line. Whizzing past coffee shops and construction workers, we began our day.

Only my day consisted of sitting. Pooh. A roller coaster would have suited more, but talking, mesmerized, thinking in that out loud way that I do so well was all I had and an extremely satisfying and productive hour galloped past. Without the proverbial couch.

A return to the fresh air greeted me with the realization that the bus stop was not where it ought to have been. I thought that it must be quite a naughty stop indeed for chasing off so without telling anyone. But then I realized that the irritation was really just jealousy hidden behind a stormy cloud of my own making, and I brushed aside said cloud with a wide, windy stroke and walked down the street to a destiny of my own making among the tulips.

Missing a bus stop is usually unfortunately followed by missing a bus, so my walk grew by lengths all on its own with every step I took. The tulips didn’t seem to mind as they reappeared in a rainbow of color down the straight and narrow and sometimes curvy to keep me company. Busy city streets, traffic becoming neighborhoods, parks with children, broody college students balancing backpacks and dreams all buzzed about. A city positively hums. (Sorry for the adverb Steve.) Did you know that sidewalks are actually electric conductors, dishing out a likewise jolt of this potential energy? The thrill is real.

I felt carried, shot through and desperately in love all at the same time. Anne of Green Gables through the cherry trees, anonymous hacker, lifeless stiff, not nearly enough but then too much. What I was missing can be found. Out there. My hand just needs to go out the bus window. What I have I can give others. It’s an answer to a question – “Do you know what time the bus meets this stop?” – a chorus to a song – “Don’t stop believing, Hold on to the feeling” – a microcosm of myself in a macrocosm of glorious imperfection while doing the Macarena. Or better yet, whatever that crazy night elf dance is called.