I’m waiting for something that may never happen and I’m trying to be okay with that. One never knows what will happen in life and this is no different. I’m sitting at the bus stop of my life and maybe that bus will come. It’s the number 17, and I’ve ridden it before. It goes to my favorite places and my seat is warm. I have a seat you know. Actually, it’s not a bus, it’s a train. I like trains better anyway. When the number 17 train comes along I can hear it in the distance. It sounds off and I know it’s on the way. I have a seat on that train too. I remember when you sat next to me and kept me warm. Is it okay that I remember that? You said you did too. That train ride will remain in my memory probably for the rest of my life. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to stay there because that moment was real to me; more real than you’ll probably ever know, no matter how much I’ve already told you. That’s the thing, I’ve told you so many times. I know that you know that I repeat myself and that doesn’t seem to bother you.

I’m saving a seat for you.

Your seat.

It’ll be here when you remember that day.