Two more people from my trip. Final part tomorrow.

~~We were standing in line for the bus back to Jersey, and I was watching the people running through the terminal to catch the buses that had already boarded their queue of passengers. I thought of the logistics of it all: they had to get out of the office on time to catch the subway on time to be able to get to the bus on time. Many of them were cutting it pretty close. Was it a daily occurrence for them to have to run to get home?

You were standing in line in front of us, carrying a bag that had your work shoes and papers in it, dressed in brown wool slacks and a striped sweater. Your hair was thick and straight, mousy brown with a little bit of gray, and I guessed we were about the same age.

A man in a blue work shirt and dirty work pants came out and said something about a canceled bus run, but we couldn’t hear him well enough to know if it was ours. We asked you if you knew what he had said, but you hadn’t heard him either, so you went to the front of the line and asked those people and then came back and told us it was a different bus route that he was talking about. This was good news.

My daughter asked you if you rode the bus daily and you said yes, that you worked in New York but lived in Tom’s River, NJ. I thought about how long that bus ride was for you every day: an hour-and-a-half there in the morning and the same in the evening. We were catching the 5:15 bus and you wouldn’t be home until seven at the earliest. Did you make so much money at your job in New York that the commute was worth it? Or was it that the job itself was so great that you didn’t mind all the bus time spent getting there and then getting home? Were your weekends packed with all the stuff you weren’t able to get done during the workweek, with your daily three hours of commuting?

I couldn't come up with a scenario where I would be willing to do what you did every day to get to and from work, unless God told me I had to. I thanked Him that I lived and worked in the same city. I thanked Him that the commute from one end of my city to the other was only four miles and took fifteen minutes at the most, and that was during "rush hour".

~~I saw you at the gate in the airport while we waited to board the next plane. You and your wife were holding onto each other so tightly: you, with your arms around her shoulders, your head resting on top of hers; her, with her arms around your waist and her cheek pressed against your chest. You clung to each other, both of you crying. I imagined that she listened to your heartbeat as she held you, trying to memorize the sound of it. The announcer called us to the gate for boarding, but you didn't move. You two were still standing there, in each other's arms, when I got on the plane. I found my seat and watched for you. Finally you walked down the narrow aisle, stopping while the people in front of you got their carry-ons stowed and settled themselves in their seats. Dressed in your desert camo, you stood there, tall and strong, firm resolution written on your face, with eyes still wet from your tears.