The Magic Yellow Bus

Dreams, it seems, are only as good as the willingness to see them real.

There was never a time when reality felt so real. There I stood, staring at an ocean of gray, knowing nothing but the power of the sweet, yellow bus.

I remember moments as a child when I’d stare at that yellow bus. She was not just a bus to my young soul. She was a hope, a dream of a young man who sought to escape his childhood reality, and a moment where my mind could wander to happy times ahead. I could see the power of good people riding with me, enjoying the honesty of laughter and the power of a good soul in the passenger seat. If only I could drive…

Later, as a young man, I thought I’d finally be able to sit behind the wheel of that magical yellow bus. All I had to do was find the keys and the good people I once envisioned. That search, however, seemed nearly impossible and though I could still feel the laughter of good people near me, that dream soon seemed to fade. If only someone had given me a map and told me where they’d put the keys…

Decades passed and the yellow bus began to show the effects of time. She no longer shined brilliantly in the afternoon sun, and some of her magic seemed to have turned to rust. Still, I hoped for a chance to see the dreams of a young boy reborn and that the magic of the bus had not forever waned. The man I had become could only hear the grumbles of those around me coupled with the voices that had accumulated in my head. I seemed destined to never drive that yellow bus, or experience the magic she once possessed.

Now an old man, I realize the truth of the magic yellow bus. It was I who had the magic, the bus just gave it a place to go. Soon, I began to assemble the tools I’d need to see my dreams realized. I began scraping the rust away, removing the worn and weary parts that no longer served a purpose. It was with great sweat, blood, and tears that the yellow bus began to look like it once had and I began to feel renewed.

Finally, beyond all hope and reason, I was able to sit behind the wheel of the yellow bus and drive. The magic I had within me not only brought luster to her, but also had given me the power to finally realize my dreams. Mostly, though, it had shown me the power of the lessons I had been taught along the way. I was not meant to be a pedestrian. I was meant to drive.

It seems, though, I may be destined to sit alone within this bus. As I drive by the memories of those who could have sat with me, I realize what had kept me from the bus had also kept me from them. I refused to let the magic happen so the bus, and my hopes, sat idle.

Now, we are in motion, and I look forward to all we will encounter.