The Thirty Three

The Thirty-Three

“Anyone waiting for the thirty-three?” a woman’s voice called from behind me. She had spoken with the intent of being loud, but her voice sounded unpracticed, and her words came out in a harsh, scratchy rasp. I was standing just underneath the bus stop shelter to shield my eyes from the bright, morning sun, and I turned to look at her through the dirty glass. She was short and heavy-set, and her thick, curly hair, and puffy, green coat only furthered her striking resemblance to some kind of pre-politically-correct storybook Eskimo. Above her sniffling, pink nose was a pair of dark, drugstore-sunglasses, and under her right arm was a long, collapsible cane. “Yeah, It should be here any minute.” I responded nonchalantly, as if I hadn’t noticed or thought twice about her blindness. In her glasses I could see the reflection of the sunrise, it was particularly nice that day. I stepped out of the shoddy enclosure and turned to admire the early light. I remember that moment now as if it happened only this morning, and I can still swear that I made no audible exclamation when I saw it. It wasn’t beautiful, it was honestly breathtaking. The background noise of my thoughts faded to nothing and my mouth opened slightly, leading my body in reverent repose before the wondrous scene. “Are you okay?” the woman asked in a worried tone. I remained silent for another second or two before I responded. “Yes…yes, I’m fine.” “Did you see something?” she asked. “The sun is beautiful today” I responded, quietly. “Tell me about it.” Said the frizzy-haired woman. It took me more than a moment to realize that there was no sarcasm in her voice. “Oh, yeah, O.K..” I stammered. “It’s gigantic, bigger than I’ve ever seen it, it seems, and the clouds are rolling by below it. The light is wonderfully soft. It’s making everything sort of bronze.” I paused, feeling frustrated. “I wish I could explain it better. It deserves a good explanation.” “No, that was fine.” The woman said softly. “That was perfect.” Her voice cracked slightly. I wanted to respond, but I was oddly at a loss for words. We stood there for another minute, and the woman spoke up again. “It’s good to talk to someone.” Her voice was very kind now, and it had lost some of its rustiness. “People don’t talk to me very much.” “It was good talking to you.” I said, just as I heard the bus in the distance. Again, there was another long pause as the thirty-three pulled up. “This is the one.” I said to her. “Good, can you help me on?” “Sure.” I answered as I glanced back at that golden brilliance.