Member-only story
The Bus
My first bus ride since returning home from Tobermory to Craignure
I felt lost today. Trust me, it’s not like I’ve forgotten my way around the island. The seagulls could take my eyes out. I’d still find my way home. Since coming home, I’ve revisited the old trails, set foot into dilapidated barns, and climbed over gates like yesterday or half a century ago.
I felt lost today — while seated on the bus. Yes, on the bus.
What has changed, what is more difficult to navigate, is adapting to the change in the island’s people. I woke up fifteen minutes past my alarm, showered, got dressed, and rushed through breakfast to be sure I’d get the first bus down to Craignure for the first ferry to Oban.
I barely squeezed onto the bus as a swarm of people surged forward.
As the bus rolled off, the island’s scenery drifted past in a blur, the scenes barely registering. Everything was fine — until it wasn’t.
Without warning, it struck me. Nobody is talking to anyone else. But we are island folk; we talk, gossip, and tell tall tales.
There’s a significant change in the kinds of folk now settled on the island.
The woman sat at the front of the bus, she has braided hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail. In her thirties, a…
