Love Forever, Love is Free*

For the past few months, I've come to appreciate the "community" of regulars who grace my presence on my daily trek to work. The most interesting people, by far, are the people who wait for their bus at the stop where I wait to transfer to my second bus.

Only one bus travels the route where I catch my first bus, which means that the only people who are ever at that stop are people coming from my neighborhood and going downtown (or somewhere in between).

At my second bus stop, at least 10 busses (and probably more like 15) stop in front of the building where I catch my second bus. They are busses from all different neighborhoods, and even some coming from outside of the city. It's amazing what you can tell about someone by looking at the bus they get off of, or onto. It's even more amazing what you can't tell.

One of my favorite people (who is really part of a pair) who I get to see is a high school-aged boy who waits in the bus shelter with me everyday for about five minutes (it's just the way our schedules coincide).

When I first noticed him, he got off of a city bus with a group of four or five other high school kids. The group proceeded to walk toward the nearest high school, but he stopped and waited in the bus shelter. I was baffled, but didn't really pay attention to his comings or goings except to notice that he had always disappeared by the time I boarded my second bus.

As this continued, I started to pay more attention. I noticed one day that he had his name embroidered onto a varsity sports sweatshirt (I won't be so inappropriate as to state it, but it made me happy that it was a good Irish name). As I looked at his sweatshirt one day (trying to be inconspicuous), trying to figure out what he was doing and why he was always frowning, I noticed his eyes light up. A high school girl was getting off of a another city bus. Love.

She stopped and smiled coyly as soon as she descended the bus stairs, and then quickly ran over to him, latching onto him around his waist in an embrace. He tried not to smile but couldn't help himself. After about 10 seconds of coat and bag shuffling, they walked toward the school together.

This happens every day. The boy stands, stone-faced, in his varsity sweatshirt, listening to his headphones. Sometimes he gives me a curious glance when he catches me taking a picture of the city in the morning (a hobby that brings me a lot of joy), but he never makes eye-contact and he never smiles. The girl's bus always comes about 5 minutes after his bus, and she always does something cutesy and lavishes love and affection on him before they depart for school.

I wondered, for a few days, why she was so outwardly affectionate, and why he was so stoney-faced, and why that didn't worry her at all. It seemed so obvious by their interaction that there was a discrepancy in their care for each other.

But a few weeks ago, as I stood trying not look at my bus shelter companion - who was trying not to shiver in the snow and wind in his sweatshirt - I realized that this boy was standing in the snow and wind and cold because of her. He waits for her every day without fail. He never has a coat on**. He has to put up with some strange girl staring at him. It's also probably the case that he could take a later bus and get to school on time, but he doesn't so they can have their little rendez-vous every morning. Now that is love.

She may jump up and down and hug him and squeel and give him kisses everytime she sees him, but I can tell by the look in his face that his day begins and ends with thoughts of her. His whole world revolves around her. Giving kisses is easy, standing outside in the cold isn't.

I know she loves him too, but it's just so obvious that it's not the same way he loves her, and because of that I want to protect him. There are days when I want to turn to him and say "I know. I know what you're feeling. I know what's it's like to love someone so much that it scares you."

But I know I'm past the age where it would mean anything to him. To teenagers, anyone who wears dry-clean-only clothes and gets up to go to work (and not school) every morning just doesn't get it. And in a way, I don't. Remembering what it was like to be a teenager in love*** is not the same thing as actually being there.

More than anything I want to tell him to be careful. I want to tell him that he is going to have his heart broken, by her and by other girls, but that that's okay. I want to say "I know because I was there! I was that girl who showered kisses and affection on her stoic boyfriend!" And even though that relationship ended, and it hurt, if you mature the right way, and learn from your mistake (and don't get too battered along the way), you'll grow into an adult who can experience love in a way that a teenager never could. I survived that battled, and I'm the better for it.

But I can't tell him that. Even if he would listen, it wouldn't do any good. These, like so many other life lessons, are the things you have to learn on your own.

Looking at them is like looking through a telescope into my past. Every day I am reminded of the things old boyfriends did for me and it hurts because I remember that I didn't always return the kindness or devotion. But then I think of all of the things I do now for love. All of the things I can do now for love.

And I am grateful. I'm grateful that I've become the person I am, and I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to watch them and learn from them in ways they won't be able to, until they've lived and loved like I have (and do).



*From "Feel Good, Inc" by Gorillaz


**At first I romanticized it in my mind, thinking perhaps he came from a poor family who couldn't afford a coat, but it's far more likely that he has a perfectly good coat at home and a mother who shouts "aren't you going to wear your coat?!" every morning, just before he shouts "no!" and slams the door.

*** and I'm sure that statement will cause some chuckles from people who read this, and who see me as currently being young and in love, because I am young and in love, but I'm not a teenager anymore.