Familiar strange

The last two days I have been without car. This is no big deal really. The panel beater is right across the road from the bus stop, or should that be the other way around? Anyway, I chose the panel beater because of its proximity to the bus that would take me to work with minumum fuss. It is also the bus to take my young son to daycare. In fact, the bus stops right between my work and his daycare. Perfect really.

And this is when the adventure begins...A bus, a boy and the start of summer are well met. I find myself clutching the sweaty palm of my little man as we make our way through the leafy back streets of North Melbourne, across the park from the public pool where we swam in glorious evening light just last night. Past the men at work, I have to pull on my son's hand a little more strongly, captivated as he is by digging equipment and witch's hats. Round the corner to the bus stop at the end of the street, by the tram stop and the corner shops. We sit on the green metal park bench and wait. He sits with backpack still on his tiny back, the pack sporting Lighting McQueen, almost as big as he. And then he sees it. The adventure takes flight. A well fed friendly looking possum staring intently through the wire fence, one paw resting casually on the tree. The boy stares back. The possum leans forward and back, as unaware pedestrians march by. The possum scampers up the tree a bit, and back down, leans forward further still, then hesitates, his self-assuredness astounding, his fearlessness a delight.  Avery magic possum

 My boy jumps up. 'He's coming to get me mum!' I laugh but I'm not so sure about the motives of possums either (even though this one is especailly cute), so happily spy the bus from the corner of my eye.  As we alight the bold little creature darts across the road, making safely, I am relieved to note, to the other side. We were not his intended destination after all. Boy and I take our seats, a little elated, for so much adventure so early. He sits, faced glued to the window, as we wind our way along. This is the same route we take every morning in our car yet it is somehow transformed from the vantage of the bus. Even for me.I feel like a tourist. I feel like I am seeing with fresh eyes this old home of mine. The warm day, the smell of the bus, like a foreign place I can't name. I feel fresh even through my tiredness. I feel adventurous for doing something so mundane. Familiar strange. It is a delight to feel this way. Perhaps it is the fact of being on the bus in this city of trams. Or not being in the one to have to navigate the ever worsening traffic. Even for the extra time it takes, I feel far more relaxed when I arrive at my destination. Turn me into a TV commercial. I'm a convert to the bus. To the extra bit of day for me and my little man. To letting someone else drive. To feeling like a tourist in my own town.