I Missed the Bus by Lynn Beighley

I missed sitting in the comfortable seat, hearing Julie, our guide, tell us interesting things about Wales, or London, or Edinburgh. I missed singing along to silly songs as we were chauffeured about the English countryside. I missed being with a group of people who 14 days before were strangers. I missed having companions, people who didn’t mind my age, because they were my age, who didn’t mind Irv’s lousy jokes, because everyone on the bus made the same lousy jokes. I missed the way Irv lit up when we were eating dinner with everyone else and teased those among us who refused to try things like blood pudding and haggis. I missed the way Irv woke up and immediately wanted to talk about the day ahead, the things we’d be seeing. I missed seeing things I’ll never have a chance to see again with Irv. I missed the bus today. I miss Irv.

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