The bus ride to Paula's house is a good 27 minutes. Maybe a little less.

At first it is lonely. I look around and no one needs me to pick them up. I laugh out loud at this visual. No one cares about me and it is sad, but still interesting. Before I had kids, I never would have been lonely on a bus. I think of my brother, 3,000 miles away. He is in an office all alone again and I can feel his loneliness. I can hear it jump from the screen of his email that starts, "Hey sister."

Our sister's house has a ghost. At least one. There might be two. I wonder if she can lend one to our brother. How do you mail a ghost? I was thinking of faxes this morning. No one faxes anymore, but think about how 100 years ago, it would have seemed like magic. Like real magic. Like evil. And now, faxes are quaint. I will invent a ghost fax machine and I will fax my brother one of my sister's ghosts. And the ghost will keep him company during his long days at work, all alone.

Why do we all sit at desks all day? Some day we will be ghosts, so let's live now before we can't anymore. Let's take the bus to a friend's house and knit a scarf and eat strawberries. Let's ride the bus and think of the beauty of the lonely.