65

I had dinner at the Gs today. When I kissed friends and kids and dog goodbye and walked to the road, I realised I shall take the bus home. A direct bus. The first to spring to mind was Bus #65. I said to myself, "Sixty-faaiive." I realised what I was saying.

It was from "'65, tensions running high...in my high school", which was from Springsteen's My Hometown. I did not have it on my iphone. I youtubed it. Heard it a couple of times as I walked to the bus stop and waited for my bus. I was moved. I walked, thinking it wonderful how a song so deeply & specifically relevant to America in the 60s could resonate with a 10 year old in Delhi, India. And now with a 30something year old in Singapore, in different ways and also in the same old way.

My undulating day bonded with the me that was being moved by the song. Circuitry connected, welling saltwater threatened, my inner rawness found new (even silly) connections that even in fleeting were weighty. I listened to music (Heloise now) and read nothing, did not even take out my book. I just sat in the bus and came home. I now don't even know what I thought of, or what I saw or quite what I felt. I just was.

And oh, I caught bus #64 home.

And oh, I just realised 65 is how I often refer to this place. The 'plus six five'.