Two ends of the line

Readers of my Bridges to London blog—once they got over the shock of actually seeing a new post there—recently learned that I've undertaken a new mode of transportation for getting to work these days. Namely, riding the bus.

The activity does remind me of London (which is why I wrote about it there first) but it has given me a new look at my hometown, too. Obviously, I get to look at scenery out the window in a more leisurely fashion when someone else is driving.

But the waits at the bus stops give me a little quiet time to soak in the neighborhood ambiance as well.

The stop near St. Mary's, where I wait in the afternoon, is mercifully shaded. And it has the added attraction of being part of a small "pocket park," one of several in the neighborhood around the university. We (that is, St. Mary's University) are trying to be good citizens and improve the amenities for the folks we share the area with. (And it doesn't hurt that an improved neighborhood environment looks more inviting to prospective students, too.)

On the left is the marker identifying the little parklet by the #90/89 bus stop as being part of what we are calling the St. Mary's Gateway district.

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My morning wait, while at a more unadorned stop, has some special significance, too.

Since the bus schedules are skewed in such a way that it would take me more than an hour to get to work if I rode all the way, my always inventive husband suggested I just drive to where I could catch the one bus that wouldn't require transferring. As usual, what a good idea he had! Especially since I found a perfect parking place next to a stop on that line, only about 5 minutes from home.

I park on a nice, wide street in Monte Vista, right next to Laurel Heights Methodist Church, where my daughter happily spent her pre-school days (see above). So I not only found what I have to consider a safe parking place, but one that brings back pleasant memories of the earlier days of parenthood. Plus, I can sit to wait for the bus on the church steps and even be in the shade.

As I sit there, I often see a #90 bus coming the other way. And something else, too, that you might or might not notice in the photo below.


There's a small bunch of flowers and a cross on the median. Do you see it now?

I've used this street as a route to work for many years, even before I had a daughter to drop off at Laurel Heights, and long before I started this bus-riding. I remember one morning first noticing the little memorial, but I can't tell you when that was. Only that it was quite long, perhaps even very long, ago.

Over the years, I've always rather expected the refreshment of the flowers and other decorations to stop, but it never has. The display changes with the seasons—hearts for Valentine's Day, little ghosts (and other Día de los Muertos mementos) for Halloween, a little tree for Christmas.

It's a touching, sad, but still beautiful expression of someone's grief over something terrible that must have happened on this spot, probably late at night, a long time ago. Whoever takes the time and trouble to design and construct these memorial tableaus (and, although it might be a wife, I rather think it's a mother) still misses someone named Oscar very much.

And because she (I'm almost certain it's a she) takes the time to do this, we all can share that grief, at least a little. And be reminded to drive carefully. And be reminded to treasure those we love.

It certainly gives me something to think about while I sit on the church steps, enjoying the morning air, and waiting for my ride.