The Barefoot Girl

I sat at the bus stop waiting for the 503 to take me to work, as I always do. The soft patter of rain provided a nice background music as I waited and watched. Every morning about ten minutes before the bus, a trio of walkers comes by. They should be here soon, unless the rain has turned them off.

I soon see it hasn't. As they approach I wonder which shirt the lady will be wearing. She always wears a sassy shirt, and they often bring a smile to my face. Today she is wearing a new one, and it does not disappoint. My eyes flicker between her face and the shirt as she looks my way. I smile widely at her and she grins back. They pass me and I'm left waiting for the next people.

Ah, here's the first half of the pair. She's walking up the road with a bright blue umbrella and a vacant content look about her. She's wearing her trademark pastel plaid shirt over her backpack with only the top button done up and the sleeves flapping in the wind. She folds her umbrella and sits down on the bench next to mine and slings her back under the seat. We meet eyes and exchange a brief smile before she turns her head and stares at the bus stop across the road. We remain sitting silently, listening to the rain and watching.

The bus she's been looking for arrives, her eyes eagerly scanning the outlines of the people as they get off the bus. She sits up a bit straighter and smiles, spotting a familiar shape. She stands and leaves her items under the seat and walks into the rain to meet her friend half way. They exchange a sweeping wave and a smile and she leads her friend to sit. They sit comfortably close and the girl shushes her friend, listening to the rain. Their bus comes and they get on, sitting up the front. The girl looks back and waves goodbye and I smile and wave back. We've never spoken but she feels like a friend.

The friendly man on a bike goes past in a raincoat, and we smile at eachother for a split second as he passes. Usually he's the last person of note I see before my bus, but today I spot another figure coming towards the stop. The first thing I notice is that she doesn't appear to have noticed that it's raining; no raincoat, no umbrella, no attempt to shelter from it. She has softly curled hair and is wearing a loose shirt and a colorful flowing skirt that brings to mind the image of a gypsy. She's grinning widely at nothing in particular and seems to be enjoying walking on the grass instead of the path right next to it. She swings her bag in time with her step and every few paces hits her leg, but she doesn't seem to notice. I smile bemusedly at her when she gets closer and she somehow manages to stretch her grin wider in return. My bus comes around the corner as she's passing me, and I get up to go. I board the bus and pay the fare, snagging a window seat to watch the rain. The bus moves off and I look back at the gypsy girl walking along, and she waves. I raise my hand in goodbye as the bus turns away and settle down for the ride, feeling like I've made a new friend.