The Jabberwock

A Long Walk from the Bus Stop

I step off the bus and take a view of Fields Corner: stop signs, crosswalks, sidewalks, cars, and old houses. They all look beautiful. Wasting no time, I cross the street and continue walking straight. I take this route, due to its familiarity, or so I thought. I walk further on, moving with a rhythm from the music of the cars passing by. Then, a moment of pure silence occurs for me; the houses start to look unfamiliar. The environment looks unrecognizable. This side of Fields Corner is different from what I’ve seen. Cars with the loudest engines are less, the sun shines less, and the houses look fancier and trees surround them. My heart pounds, I turn back and walk, trying to retrace my steps and figure out where I got lost. That walking turns into running. My filled pencil case rumbles and I hear all the components in my bag. I run until I have lost any sense of direction. 

Am I still in Fields Corner? How am I going to get home? As far as I’m concerned. 

I persist walking, and walk many streets of Dorchester; Harvard St, School St, Athelwold St, and so much more all while my feet pound on the pavement. My eyes sting, though I brush off any desire to cry. Nevertheless this doesn’t last. Tears well up in my eyes, travel down my cheeks, and vanish from my chin. 

Uhh, how am I going to get home again? I think once more. 

An hour passes by, though by some mystery, with all that walking I endured, I find my way home. From Bowdoin Street to Geneva Avenue. I find the place that I’d been longing to return to. My soul shouts “Hallelujah!” 

Me getting lost was a distressing experience but me getting home was a blessing. A few days later, I find out that this distress could have been prevented. So as I was waiting for the bus, I noticed my friend Kaylah.

“Hey Kaylah!”

“Hi Blessing!” 

“How was your day?”

“It was good. How was yours?”

“It was good as well.”

The conversation grows cold and there is silence. The school bus approaches and we both hop on. I think of something to say to Kaylah to start the conversation again. 

“How was your First Day of School?” 

“It was good! How was yours?”

“It was great, I just got lost when trying to get home. Like very lost.”

“Oh yeah, I saw you taking the wrong road–” exclaim

“Ehh, why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaim, stopping her from explaining why she didn’t tell me. 

“I didn’t know how to. You just started walking. I didn’t know how to get home from the bus stop either, so I asked the teachers at school and they told me.”

“Ohh, I see. I should’ve done that, I thought I knew how to get home.”

“Ah, sorry.”

“It’s alright, I know how to get home now.” 

“Next time you should tell me when I’m doing something wrong.” I wanted to say. 

28, 22, 23

School’s out and I wait for the bus that I take from school everyday. The beloved, but not so 23 Ashmont. It’s not long that I wait, when I see three buses: the first is the 28 Mattapan, the next is the 22 Ashmont, and the last is the 23 Ashmont, the one I want to take. I ready myself as the buses approach in a somewhat orderly chain. As soon as the buses come to the stop, I gladly walk back to where the 22 Ashmont bus is. I pass the 28, and walk to the 22 which is behind. So instead of taking my regular 23 Ashmont bus, I accidentally take the 22 Ashmont. By messing up the title of the bus, I hop on. I hang onto a handle to keep my balance on the visibly old bus. Constantly, I have to move my mask up or hold my nose, to block the nauseating smell of pizza a guy is eating. The unpleasant scene worsens the bus ride and I angrily sigh. I tell myself he is probably hungry, which is why he is chomping pizza, to end my opposition. As the bus moves, I view the bus stops through the window. People get on and people get off, claiming or leaving seats. When I see an open seat, I reach for it and surprisingly it’s next to a familiar face.

“Hey Chloe!” I say gladly. 

“Hi!” She responds. 

I continue watching through the window, and I notice that the bus I’m on, passes a critical stop that the 23 Ashmont passes, this stop makes the 23 different from other buses. 

“Chloe, what bus is this?” I ask, worried that I took the wrong bus.

 

“The 22 Ashmont.” She replies.

And it turns out, my worry was correct. “Oh. I’m on the wrong bus.” I say to her.

I push away the thought of just going all the way to Ashmont and then take another bus from Ashmont to get home. That would be a lot of work, so I press the stop button for the vehicle to make a stop, though the button doesn’t work. I press and press, and nothing happens. The bus keeps on moving, passing yet another stop. Quickly, I get up and walk to the front while the bus is moving, and when the driver gets to a stop, I get off.

Angered that I took the wrong bus but determined to get home, I exhale, firm my eyebrows, and walk back to where the 23 would pass, declaring to pay more attention next time.

No Way at Fenway

The doors open on the right, and I get off at Fenway. I walk across the tracks to the opposite stand on the left, unsure of how I will get there. It’s dark, scary, and looks abandoned though I try to remind myself of the words of the driver. The driver of the train told me that I should wait for the next train to bring me back to Kenmore, but I didn’t get much of what he said, as I was focused on the fact that I’m lost. “Yes.” I said reluctantly when he asked if I understood. 

I spot someone walking up metal stairs that led upwards. However, I don’t know their intentions. What will happen when I climb the metal stairs? Where will they bring me? Who or what is at the stairs? This place is unfamiliar, what should I do? All of these thoughts fill my head. I think of going up the stairs half-way to see what is up there: though stories I heard on the news, of girls alone in unknown places, fill my mind so I stay down and brainstorm. 

Then, as quick as a flash, an idea pops into my head: I grab my phone and call my trusted advisor Lindsey. 

“I took the wrong Green Line train and now I’m at Fenway. I was trying to get to Boston University.” I say. My eyes sting, a few minutes of being lost was enough for me. 

“Well Blessing, luckily for you Fenway is really close to BU. What do you see?” Lindsey says calmly. 

I turn to my left and to my right and in all directions. To my left I see a path that has a sign. The sign communicates that the path is meant for buses. To my right, I see the rest of the stand. There’s a bench that I refuse to sit on, the pavement, and the outside of Fenway station. Across from me is the stand on the right, that I first started on. While behind me are the stairs. I explain all of this to Lindsey and the fact that I don’t want to take the stairs, though I don’t know what else to do. 

“Well, try using Google Maps and see where that brings you. If you have to take the stairs, then do it! If it doesn’t work out, I will come collect you myself.” She says assuredly. 

“Sigh… alright.” I utter. Through my gripping fear, I do just that and the metal stairs bring me to BU.