When you're a substitute school bus driver, every bus you get in needs adjusting so that you can safely drive and understand what you're looking at in the mirrors. I get in the buses and always try to drop the seat down, even though that makes it seem like I could drive better with my knees it makes it possible to see out the windows...which is significantly important, especially to see stop lights and other such pretty things to look at.
And anyway, so it goes in each fancy bus. Then I sink back into my tiny Saturn and into the insignificant world of normal drivers. If you've served a mission, it's that same feeling you get when nobody looks at you anymore because you're no longer wearing a little black tag...a fresh feeling in my personal corner of Provo. Now it's back to getting used to people staring at me because I'm so unnaturally tall. And in three weeks more I'll have the smile-covered comments iced with worry on my marital status to endure til the end.
People expect so much normalcy normality? normalness? and one ceases never to adjust the seat of their pants to view the world like everyone else is used to. What I need to incorporate into me is the capacity to accept a peek into the view of where someone else is pointed and judge whether it's better than what I'm used to seeing. Then all I do is adjust and keep driving, large and important, and kinda yellow. Yeah, that kind of describes me, doesn't it?
1 comment:
Speaking as one who has had his fair share of those icy smiles, I would like to offer a response for you to keep with you at all times. I will give it to you in context. Use it whenever you feel appropriate.
Some well-meaning-wrong-doing-not-single-person: So, Emily, There are a lot of single RM's around... Why don't you get married. Soon.
Emily: Oh, hello sister w.m.w.d.n.s.p, How is your personal life? Still keeping the romance alive with your husband? I hear it's hard at your age.
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