The Bus Stop

“I’ve always wanted to go to a jazz fest,” she said while on the phone with her father.

Morgan was ready to get out of the house. Working from home, lack of sleep, and stress all contributed to her purchase of a jazz fest ticket. Every year, historic Central Ave in Los Angeles shuts down a few blocks so folks from all over can gather together to enjoy a weekend of soul.

Her father, Alfred, grew up in the area on 48th and Western. He was thrilled to know his daughter lived down the way on 75th and Central in a tiny studio apartment. It was just enough space for Morgan to feel peace in her home. Miles Davis and John Coltrane vinyl were stacked in a crate near her window, just next to the vintage record player from her Dad. After a rough day, vibing to jazz music was an escape, as she looked out of the window to the palm tree lined streets. It was these moments that inspired Morgan to journal notes to self, poetry, and affirmations.

On her way out, Morgan grabbed her favorite canvas tote bag from Bricks and Wood-- a local South Central owned company, headphones, face mask, keys, wallet, and of course, her favorite little black notebook. After a few looks in the mirror near the entryway, she was headed out to the bus stop just a block from her place. Headphones automatically plug into Morgan’s phone, as a sigh of joyful relief crept over her body. And just as she had hoped, it was 75 and sunny.

The bus pulls up to the stop in no time and her favorite bus driver is on this line. Mr. Evans can see her smile as he pumps the brakes and opens the front door.

“Well don’t you look happy,” he says jokingly.

Morgan responds, “You know I’ve been talking about this for weeks. It’s my break away from the world!”

“You deserve it”, he says. She makes her way to the back of the bus with a chuckle.

Even though there is a bold sign that says “Do not speak to the bus driver,” Morgan often said hello, please, thank you, and would ask about his day. Mr. Evans was there for her on the hard days while leaving an exhaustive day at work. Morgan worked as a program manager in Downtown LA helping returning citizens with employment. She felt honored to do social justice work but being a manager was filled with more contracts and grants than anything else.

“I daydream about being a poet,” was scribbled in Morgan’s little black notebook. She opened up to this page as she gazed out of the window imagining and visualizing her dream life. Moments later, a familiar voice enthusiastically says, “HEY Mr. Evans.” She couldn’t believe it. Headed towards the back of the bus was a former participant at the program from Morgan’s day job.

“Sharif?” Morgan says curiously. She couldn’t really tell if it was him through the mask.

“I know you can’t see me smiling but yes it’s me!”

Sharif says. After checking in and saying their hellos, Sharif points to the notebook.

“You’re still writing” he says. When Sharif would come into the program, he and Morgan would start off their conversations on a creative level. He would share about his first time picking up a camera and how exciting it was to see the world through a lens. He felt so alive. She would share her poetry and notes to self. They would both leave the conversation feeling refreshed after having shared their creative endeavors and dreams of pursuing art.

“This is my stop. I’m headed to the jazz fest!” Morgan exclaims.

“That’s dope! I’m heading to a long shift. Gotta make this paper. Keep following your dreams” he says.

“You too! Take care. Bye Sharif! Bye Mr. Evans!” she says while exiting the bus.

As the bus takes off to the next stop, Sharif realizes that Morgan left her little black notebook on the seat. He panics and isn’t sure how he will get this back to her. Before exiting the bus at his stop, Sharif turns to Mr. Evans and asks if he would hold onto the notebook. Without hesitation, he offers to keep it safe and says he will likely see Morgan at the top of next week. Sharif exhales and hands the notebook over. He notices the oval sticker on the top that reads “Follow your dreams.” Sharif smiles and heads to his shift.

The tribute to Alice Coltrane was by far Morgan’s favorite set at the jazz fest. Next to the stage was a resource table for future events in the South Central community. She picked up a colorful brochure that read “Vocal Creators.” To her surprise, there were instructions on how to submit a short story for a grand prize of $20,000. Morgan thanked the vendor and happily tucked her brochure into her tote bag. Later that evening, she catches a Lyft back home. While gazing out of the passenger window, she smiles and holds the brochure close to her heart.

While taking off her shoes at the door and hanging her tote bag, she reaches in to grab her notebook. Morgan’s heart beats triple fast. She buries her face into her hands and takes a deep breath.

“I must have left it on the bus” she says disappointedly. Her whole life was in that book. Morgan heads to the bathroom to shower with a feeling of defeat. While playing jazz on her phone, she steps into the shower to get ready for bed. After putting on pajamas, she decides to wait for Monday to ask Mr. Evans if her notebook was on the bus. Morgan was determined to get started on the Vocal Creators challenge.

Monday hits and Morgan rushes out the door to the bus stop frantically. She plays Terrace Martin on her headphones to calm her down, yet her heart is still beating rapidly. Sure enough, Mr. Evans pulls up on his regular bus line. There are a few folks ahead of her dropping in their coins to enter and take a seat. Mr. Evans holds up Morgan’s notebook for her to see.

He hands her the little black notebook with the same inspirational sticker.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she says.

“Now go follow your dreams and take a seat” he says with a wink.

A month passes by....

Morgan successfully submits her work to Vocal Creators. She can’t help but think of Sharif during her break at lunch, wondering what he was up to. In the case note database, she was able to retrieve an old email address in the hopes of reaching him. While logging in, Morgan’s phone buzzes. It’s an email from Vocal Creators. Without reading the entire subject line, her eyes fixated on the word CONGRATULATIONS in capital letters.

Stunned is an understatement. She couldn’t believe her eyes. This was her moment of truth. A $20,000 grand prize. Morgan’s face turns red as she attempts to keep her composure at work. She steps outside after finding Sharif’s contact information. The phone number is disconnected. She proceeds to write an email to him letting him know about the great news. When she returned home later that evening, he wrote back letting her know that he asked Mr. Evans to keep the notebook.

At the window, near her jazz vinyl and record player, Morgan replies back thanking him and asks Sharif to collaborate with her.

“I want to bring my poetry to life,” she writes.

A few weeks later, Morgan quits her day job. She sets up a business meeting with Sharif. He shows up, camera in hand. They talk for hours about videography, poetry, and creativity. She uses a portion of the money to pay him for his help. They smile knowing that the best is yet to come.