I wish I had a picture for this — instead you have to imagine it.
The nice man driving the big blue #2 bus toward Sofia on Friday morning, right around 9 am, stopped for me at the same corner where the young woman was hit by a truck last fall. The flowers, candles, notes, photos, ghost bicycle, and the spray-painted white Dalarna hasten are all gone, removed or washed away, but I think of her every morning at that spot as I signal to turn right.
I was out of breath and had yet to signal that I was going to turn there, so when the bus driver stopped, I thought he was waiting for me to go straight, so I signaled wildly, I’m going right! Waving my right arm and pointing. He nodded, and I kept on my way, turning right. And then at the next intersection, which is the bottom of a curved slope, he stopped and waited again, as I turned right again and pulled out into the roadway that he would take the bus along to get to the next bus stop.
This driver waited until I had gotten safely out of the way by about a block, and then he started forward with the bus. By the time I pulled away from the next stoplight, which is right at that bus stop, he was just nudging the nose of the bus in toward the sidewalk there, right behind me.
I turned and waved, smiling, and he waved and smiled back. What a nice commute!