It was a Tuesday afternoon in the 1990s. I had just barely caught the bus home from work because one of the bad payers had come five minutes before closing time for the third time in two weeks, begging for an extension on her payment. I could have strangled her!
Now I sat with my head against the cold window, still slightly out of breath from the 400-meter sprint to the bus stop. I hadn't bought groceries for dinner yet. I didn't have the energy to do it either. Maybe there was still some seafood in the freezer from when they were on sale at the supermarket. I hoped it was one of those with shrimp. I had also bought some Seafood food, but that was the biggest mistake I had made in a long time! People who like crabs on frozen seafood must be out of their minds!
As I sat there, fingers crossed, my thoughts of mortgage loans, dried pineapple, and calorie burning from intense sprints were suddenly interrupted.
"I hope this seat isn't reserved for someone, because I'm taking it now!"
I looked up, slightly startled.
A lady, maybe in her sixties, casually sat down next to me. She had silver-gray hair and was wearing a knee-length, mustard-yellow tight-fitting dress and a leather jacket. Her face had matching mustard-yellow eyeshadow, bright red lips, and the biggest dimples I had ever seen in my life. I quickly glanced at the rest of the bus, which was almost empty except for a tired-looking elderly gentleman and a skinny teenage boy with greasy, shoulder-length hair and disproportionately large headphones.
"What's your name?" the lady asked before I had a chance to say anything to her.
I quickly said my name.
"I'm Michelle," she replied, still smiling. "Yes, there aren't many people with that name anymore," she added and continued, "I was actually named after my grandmother, and I've always dreamed of having one of my grandchildren named after me, but apparently, no one wants to give their child such an old-fashioned name anymore."
I didn't know what to say, so I just said that it was a beautiful name.
"Yes, I think so too!" she said. The dimples disappeared from her face for a moment. "But that's how it goes. Times change. Are you named after someone?"
In the eight years I had been commuting between the bank and my apartment, I had never had a conversation with anyone during the journey. Not even before I started working, back when I lived with Jonas and took the bus to high school, or later when I studied financial economics.
"Yes, I'm also named after my grandmother," I just replied, even though it wasn't true. I had never known my grandparents.
"Oh, how funny that we resemble each other!" replied Michelle.
"Yes, if you're wondering, I'm going to visit an acquaintance," she continued.
"Oh," I replied, unsure of what else to say.
"Yes, this is the last time we'll see each other before I go to folk high school. So, I have to make an effort," she said and chuckled a bit.
"Well, you see, I've always dreamed of going to folk high school! Ever since I was your age. But alas, I got both a husband and children, and it never happened."
I thought only young people went to folk high school. Those who had just graduated from high school and didn't know what they wanted to do with their lives. But I didn't say that.
"It's called Southwest park. Maybe you've heard of it? It's located in Sweden, right near the border to Norway."
I remembered the time when I dreamed of going to folk high school myself. It seemed like an adventure, a chance to explore new subjects and meet interesting people. But life had taken a different path for me, and I found myself working at the bank, crunching numbers and dealing with difficult clients.
Michelle's enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn't help but be intrigued by her stories. As we chatted, I realized that Michelle had a passion for learning and a zest for life that I hadn't seen in a long time. She spoke about the diverse range of courses offered at South west park, from art and literature to cooking and dance. It sounded like a place where people could truly discover themselves and pursue their passions.
The bus ride seemed to pass by quickly as we shared our dreams and aspirations. Michelle's laughter echoed through the bus, and even the tired-looking elderly gentleman cracked a smile. The teenage boy took off his headphones and listened intently, as if drawn in by Michelle's vibrant personality.
As we approached my stop, Michelle turned to me with a twinkle in her eye and said, "You know, it's never too late to chase your dreams. Life is too short to live with regrets."
Her words resonated with me deeply. Perhaps it was time for a change, a chance to break free from the monotony of my daily routine. I thanked Michelle for her inspiring conversation and wished her the best of luck at the district. As I stepped off the bus, a renewed sense of possibility filled my heart.
That evening, instead of reaching for the frozen seafood and dried pineapple, I sat down at my kitchen table and began researching folk high schools. I discovered that there were several locations throughout the country, each offering unique programs and opportunities for personal growth.
The thought of immersing myself in a new environment, surrounded by individuals passionate about different subjects, excited me. I imagined myself exploring topics I had always been curious about but never had the chance to delve into deeply. The idea of being part of a community of learners, sharing ideas and experiences, felt invigorating.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months as I meticulously planned my escape from the mundane. I saved up money, reached out to the admissions office at a folk high school near my hometown, and began making arrangements to take a sabbatical from my job at the bank.
Eventually, the day arrived when I bid farewell to my colleagues and stepped into a new chapter of my life. With a mix of nerves and excitement, I embarked on my journey to the folk high school. As I settled into my dorm room, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the buzz of anticipation, I couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment.
The 1990s became a pivotal decade for me, a time of exploration and self-discovery. I immersed myself in subjects ranging from literature to philosophy, embracing the joy of learning without the pressure of exams or grades. Surrounded by like-minded individuals, I formed friendships that would last a lifetime.
Looking back, I am grateful for that chance encounter on the bus with Michelle, the spark that ignited a desire for change within me. The decision to pursue my dreams, to step out of my comfort zone, and immerse myself in a new world of knowledge and experiences shaped the person I am today.
So, if you ever find yourself sitting on a bus, unsure of where life is taking you, remember that it's never too late to chase your dreams. Embrace the opportunities that come your way, and who knows, maybe you'll find yourself on a journey of self-discovery and fulfillment, just like I did in the 1990s.
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