Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
The morning bus is packed, and I am standing in the baby-carriage corral near the front. There aren’t many parents rolling their babies on board at this hour, so it has become my usual place to stand. A young girl takes the rail in front of me. She comes up to my chin. As the bus continues to fill up, I aim to protect her by taking up a bit more space–straightening my posture, pushing out my handbag with my shoulder–creating an area where she will have enough room to stand. Under my shadow, she looks up and smiles at me. I think it is universal that people are generally not smiling at 7:30 am in any given bus, but we are beaming and trading glances every few minutes until I depart. “Iyi dersler,” I wish her a nice day at her studies and she turns to wave.
The next day, we’re on the same bus again. She comes to stand next to me and we grin like old friends. We try some chit-chat—she is in high school, studying logistics. She will go on to the university. She is the only child of a taxi driver and a homemaker. I tell her about my sisters and my brother. She compliments my Turkish, right after a sentence I have struggled to compose. Her name is Ece and she says now she has an older sister as well. Yes, it is a wonderful thing to have a sister.