Bus Magic

When I was little, one of my favourite books was Possum Magic. In between the glorious illustrations, vegemite as a feature, and the illustrations of vegemite, I was read and then read this book ad nauseum. That notion of magic doesn't haunt me, but I find myself wishing that magic was actually real. That there were unexplainable and fantastical elements in this world. That was, until the other night. Today I did an eight-hour shift and in a bizarre shift of kismet, caught the bus home because it was raining. When my bus pulled up, I was treated to the most exceptional surprise of my year thus far*: my 196 was completely decked out for Christmas. These photos really don't do it justice, but it was floor-to-seat-to-ceiling-to-window-to-bus-bell decorations, wreaths and fairy lights. In between sitting there with a goofy, open-mouthed grin and taking a million snaps, I realised that magic does exist. It exists in people, in all of us throughout this land and beyond our seas. It exists in the people that were kind enough to decorate this bus (all 20 of them, the bus driver told me) to spread joy, in the people that let you go ahead of them in line because put others ahead of themselves, in the people that want to learn and know about others so as to understand, and in the parents bringing up children and teaching them the true magic of caring about others. If we can believe in the magic in people, in humanity, that is when we will be a happy world. Right now, I am the happiest girl in the world. Oh, and when I got home to my love, he had picked me frangipanis, which were all over our house. 

*With the seven days remaining.. ;)