Life realization #2

I got kicked in the pants by God today. I got on a bus that my intuition told me not to get on. I proceeded to slump in my seat, realizing how tired I was after finals week at school. All was well, I kept my eyes on my bike like a hawk, occasionally rolling over scenarios in my head of my bike getting stolen off the front of the bus (a likely story, huh?) After a time an acquaintance of mine hopped on the bus. I was relieved to see someone I knew. I had a nice conversation with my friend and said goodbye, only to hop of the bus, and yes, proceed to walk home without my bike. I noticed about a block later. "Fuck" I shouted loudly then looked around, my self conscious self expecting people to actually stop and notice me. A panic roared within me, "my bike, I just got it put together, I am finally commuting on it, fuck, damn it, fuck, fuck, fuck!". I proceeded to mutter explicatives under my breath until I reached my apartment. In my imagination I saw myself running insanely after a bus that was long gone, in the pouring rain. Poor me. Then, somehow, I stopped breathing heavily and stamping my feet, I felt calmer. I thought fast. I hoped to God the bus wasn't on it's last route to the garage. I called AC transit customer services, but while I was looking for the number on the Internet, waiting for my slow ass computer to load, I got punched right in the gut, by God. "This is what it feels like when you get too attached to objects in your life, and they get taken away." That was it! I understood immediately. I had been obsessing over my bike, worrying about it when I locked it up, worrying about leaving it in my classroom, and yes, creating scenarios in my head of the bus driver and I jointly tackling the soul who decided to steel my $180 bike. Wow, I learned my lesson. Feeling humbled, yet now hopeful, I got to thinking. The bus was 3/4 through its route, with God on my side, maybe I could hustle down to the Durant and Dana stop and I would in less than an hour see my bike being chauffeured up Durant, right wear I had put it when I started my bus journey. It was worth a try. At the bus stop, I found myself accepting the possibilities of my bikes fate, and started to watch the rain drops explode on the asphalt and listen to dancer have a conversation with her parent about her broken foot. I could relate to almost everything she was saying. "Well, I have to keep moving, I don't want to gain weight, and stuff like that" , "I will just go to rehearsal and stand in and do the text parts". Oi. I knew all to well. After a bit of waiting the 51 came, and low and behold, there was my bike. I promptly shoved my way to the front of the line and put on a panicked face. "Sir, that's my bike," I said pointing fervently. "How do I know it's yours?" he said sternly. "Sir, I left when I got off at Parker, and I ran right down here and have been waiting since I realized it was gone". "Take it" he said. And that I did. And I thanked God. I walked home, feeling detached from my bike, like I had put some much needed distance between myself and it. Most of all, while I walked home in the rain, I thanked God for that kick in the pants.