A Strange Feeling Indeed

I just opened the living room window for Luna, my cat. It's part of her 
daily ritual after her breakfast. First, she tells me I am late getting 
up. Then she insists that I am too slow opening the can. When I serve her 
the food, she stands a foot away sniffing at the dish. Then slowly 
approaches and decides that she would prefer the dry food instead. Next 
comes her toilet. Then, finally, I am summoned to open the living room 
window.

I have four cats. (I'm not altogether sane.) Each cat has a separate 
routine. The cat herd consumes the first 45 minutes of my day.

But, I diverge. We can discuss my morning cat ritual and a later date.

As I opened the window this morning, I looked outside into the morning 
twilight. There from the window, dressed in business casual, was a man 
crossing the street. He had on a blue shirt, khaki-colored pants, glasses 
and carried a laptop bag hung from his left shoulder. I estimated he was 
in his early 40s. It was a moment of deja vu.

For many years I was that man. I would go out on or before the dawning. 
Taking my place at the bus stop, I waited. If fortunate, my bus would 
arrive within 5 to 10 minutes. The bus would come, I would step on into 
the glaring lights of the interior. Few people would be inside. Since I 
live near the bus terminal I had my choice of seating. As we rolled along, 
headed into the city, the bus would fill up with passengers.

At first, there would be the sleepy adults boarding, still needing their 
coffee pick-me-up. They were usually followed by livelier teenagers headed 
for early class at a high school uptown. Then there would be a random 
parent with a child going to elementary school. Here and there assorted 
seniors, some Vets headed to the VA hospital, non-classifiable individuals 
climbed on headed somewhere.

Often, as we traveled northward on the route, the bus would get 
overcrowded. I would long for a stop where I would get out. I didn't mind 
walking an extra block or 5, so I could breathe.

Over the years, I made acquaintances with other passengers, those familiar 
strangers. We would talk to pass the time as we rode along. The commute 
was an adventure.

After the bus trip came the train terminal. I traveled for an hour and a 
half each way, each working day. The train station was busy in the 
morning. I would see people rushing about to catch a bus or subway connection, 
others headed into their office, or to get that morning cup of coffee and 
doughnut. But, there would be havens along the way, places where people 
would stop and connect with themselves or familiars. 

I took the outbound train. I worked out of the city in suburbia. The 
train ride was usually tame. There were students headed out to the prep schools 
and colleges. They would keep it lively while semesters were in session. 
Then there were the suited business types who worked in those island 
office buildings scattered throughout the suburbs. Finally, there were 
people, who like me, worked at the colleges. They often would group, 
gossiping about the things going on in their institutions.

Usually, I would get comfortable and read a book as we bounced along. 
Often there would be students from my workplace who would board the train 
and sit with me. We would talk about religion, philosophy, literature, and 
politics, and their latest studies. Then there were times they wanted 
someone to be a confidant. I tried to be a good listener and a friend.

Opening the window for Luna this morning opened the many memories I have 
from those long commutes. It was a strange feeling. It was as if I watched 
myself crossing that street. In my memories, once again I traveled along 
that familiar route that I no longer take.

I do miss it. The people, familiar strangers, and students became part of 
my life for a time. An autumn dawning can spark memories of things past. 
Mostly, I feel grateful.