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The Immigrant

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"Excuse Me Sir" ... "Sir"... "May I please see your ticket?" I reach for my ticket and present it to our bus inspector. Strangely I suddenly become struck by fear ... "what if I get thrown off the bus?", "what will happen?", "what will I do?". Before I begin to accumulate more thoughts, the inspector gently hands back my ticket, "Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez". There I am, travelling amongst the daily traffic on the George Washington Memorial Parkway. Bumper to bumper traffic. Fumes pollute every particle of air surrounding this endless parkway. The sounds of roaring engines, furious passengers and overpowering profanity all fill the air. The sky can not be seen, just simply a dark haze. Slowly, slowly we creep inches hoping to eventually reach out destination Washington DC. The bus inspector now takes her seat towards the front of the bus, talking to our driver. Suddenly, the bus jerks and the engine stops. Cars all around us seem to be doing the same. "9:30, I am going to be late, really late". Leaning against the window, all I have is precious time to waste. It seems that many of the people of this 307 route have had the same idea. Many of them are regulars on the route; however we have never exchanged words. ...read more.


The bus was crowded and continued to rattle as the gears changed. Leaning against my window, the road was moving south quickly, faster and faster we were leaving our past behind and roaming into a vast foreign land. All I had in my mind, was the Capitol Dome, my image of salvation. "200 miles to Washington" read a large green signpost. The desert sand was steaming if I recall, we were racing to so called freedom, but the desert didn't seem to be moving. Looking into the window I saw; a dark skinny 30 year old unshaven man, staring at me as though he is looking for something, something he simply is unable to find. * * * I can still remember that man ... searching for a truth ... a truth I am still not sure if he has found... Life can do that too you I think.... Leave you searching for a truth ... a truth you simple may never find. Finally, we can get a straight run on this freeway. Very quickly the bus gains momentum and we are left once again to ponder on our thoughts. Leaning back in there seats, just look at these people... did they ever suspect that life would lead them down this path? Our inspector, she sits there at the front, counting her blessings and minding her time, did she ever think life would lead her to being a bus inspector? ...read more.


they shouted ... "what did I ever do?" ... "I couldn't change where I had come from, but I wanted to change were I was going" ... I took it all though, took all their hate and anger, for the good Lord, he may judge, it is not my place.. His will be done ... Utter joy, I still remember it, when we left those phantom figures in the dust, and headed to Washington DC, the home of the Capitol Dome. Suddenly the traffic starts moving, "11:50, well at least we are almost there"... The heavy rural bus pulls into Pennsylvania Ave, and immediately stops ... "end of the line!", yells the driver. Stepping out onto the hard tar road, a satisfying crisp cold breeze fills my lungs. Grabbing my bag, I remember this road ever so clearly .... That old rattling bus stoping... the driver simply just pushed us off ... and we, we were left to fend for ourselves ... but it didn't matter, that majestic Capitol Dome, a symbol of hope and prosperity ... was right there, right there in front of me. I had been granted my second chance ... my salvation had been granted .... The racism ... well I just have to deal with it .... "his will be done, his will be done" .... I still Thank God everyday for that day ... the day I was given a second chance ... Whilst walking, I can still feel the shadow of the Capitol Dome slide across my face. ...read more.

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