Grace

Running ten minutes late as usual, I pulled up to the sidewalk.  I set the brake and turned off the motor.

No one else was on board but I did not want to take chances, especially since a company vehicle had been stolen in Las Vegas three days before. I opened the side door and stepped out on to the sidewalk.

I could hear voices from jus’ beyond the hedge bush. One of them sounded like Harold’s.

It sounded as if Harold was defending himself. So I walked around the hedgerow and discovered three teenage boys picking on the much old and mentally retarded Harold.

“Get out of here,” I shouted.

And bullies being what they are, they turned and ran away down the street.

“You okay?” I asked Harold.

“Yes, I’m okay Mr. Bus driver,” Harold answered.

He wiped his tear-stained face. As he did I helped him to his feet.

Together we walked back to the vehicle and climbed on board. I made a note of the incident so I could report it later, then we were on our way to High Sierra and Harold’s job.

As we drove across town, I looking in my overhead mirror thought, “What if that was me?”

I was looking at Harold, who kept glancing up into the mirror and smiling at me.

Fifteen minutes later, we turned into the Longley Drive address driveway. I stopped the van, set the brake and turned off the engine.

I stepped down from the last step and assisted Harold down as well.

That’s when Harold reached up and gently patted me on the shoulder and said, “It’s okay Mr. Bus driver, there but for the grace of God go I.”

With that Harold disappeared behind his employer’s door.