I Never Imagined Five Minutes of Waiting Could Change My Life—But That’s Exactly What Happened It a…

I never imagined five minutes of waiting could change my life, but thats exactly what happened.

It all began three years ago. The first time I saw her, she was hurrying towards my bus stop from a distance. Hurrying is perhaps a stretch; she was an elderly lady, leaning heavily on her walking stick, dragging her feet as quickly as she could, waving her free hand as if everything depended on it.

I stopped, of course I did.

Thank you, dear boy, she said, catching her breath as I held the door for her. These old bones dont work like they used to.

Take your time, have a seat, I replied.

From that day on, she became my regular passenger. Every Tuesday and Friday she would take my buseither for check-ups at St Georges Hospital or to visit her sister in Brixton. The issue was always the same: she would arrive just as I really ought to be pulling away.

The second time I saw her making her slow way towards us in the rear mirror, my conductor muttered, Come on, were already running late.

But I just looked back. She was there in her emerald coat, clutching a big handbag.

Well wait, I said.

Youll get in trouble

Let them.

She climbed aboard, gave me a smile with those bright blue eyes, and whispered, Youre an angel.

And thats how it became routine. Every Tuesday and Friday I would wait at that stop; if she wasnt there yet, Id hang onthirty seconds, a minute, two if I had to. Nobody minded. People had grown fond of her. Now and again, someone would stick a head out the window and shout, Its alright, shes coming!

Soon she started bringing homemade biscuits.

My granddaughter baked them, shed say, though I was never quite sure.

One Friday in July, she didnt appear. Nor did she come the following Tuesday. A week passed, then another. Each time, I stopped by the corner and looked out hopefully, but she was nowhere to be seen.

She must be ill, a woman who rode regularly said. Shes getting on a bit

Three weeks later, I saw her again, moving even more slowly, now with a walking frame. I left my bus and went to her.

Are you alright?

Her eyes welled with tears.

Ive been in hospital. But I told my daughter I had to ride your bus just one more time.

I helped her aboard. The entire bus broke into applause.

Last Tuesday was my final day on that route. After more than thirty years on the job, I was finally retiring. When I pulled up at the stop, she wasnt alonedozens of people were there: passengers from over the years, neighbours, even Martin from the corner shop.

They held a banner:
Thank you. Youve shown us kindness is never late.

I stepped off, a bit confused, and she slowly came over, leaning on her granddaughter for support, and hugged me.

You waited for me so many times, she said. So today, were waiting for you.

There were speeches, there was a plaque. They told me the bus stop would now carry my nameThe Stop of the Man Who Always Waited.

My voice wobbled.

II just waited for her. Its not much, really.

Someone called out from the crowd,

It is much! In this city, everyone rushes and nobody waits!

And the applause came again.

That night, when I told my wife everything, she said,

Thats why I love you. In a world that never pauses, you always knew when to stop.

I put the plaque next to our childrens photos. But what I keep hidden in my heart is something elsethe way she smiled every time she boarded, her quiet, Thank you, dear boy.

They say I did something remarkable. All I did was wait.
Sometimes I think thats the most remarkable thing of all: to wait for someone, even when the whole world says to move on.