bus stop.

A few days before I started kindergarten, my granddad told me he will always be waiting at the bus stop to walk me home.

I take that back.

He was not my granddad. He was my seventy-something-year-old jewish neighbor. I just felt like he was something more.

As insignificant as two short blocks may seem, he was never late. When he couldn't make it, his wife would be there to take his place.

Is it true? When you're old and disconnected from the rest of the civilized world, you feel the need to dress up for every occasion? For every occasion even if it's just to leave your nest for a few minutes.

He never failed to put on his uniform: white button-down, cardigan, black stacks, oxfords, and never without a hat. Still remains to be the most stylish person I've known.

He was never late.

I take that back.

This one day when I was around seven, he never showed.

I waited at the bus-stop for him for what seemed like hours as my temper started to boil.

Christine, it's a three-minute walk to your house. Go for it.

I did.

When I reached the tip of our property; his house was in plain sight.

I was furious. I marched up to his door to demanded an explanation.

No one was home.

I sat at their doorstep for a few minutes and waited for boredom to kick in.

Then I stood up and walked home.

His wife walked me home the rest of that week.

I didn't ask for an explanation.

After that week, he walked me home everyday.

He was never late.

Forth or fifth grade, I can't remember…

What I do remember was when Jonathan Diaz told me I was "a little too old" to have someone escort me home in broad daylight.

Shame.

I ran this over in my head a million times but I still can't remember how it happened.

He never walked me home ever again.

It was pouring outside and I was sure he'd be there at the bus stop with his huge black umbrella waiting to shield me like he use to. When I use to love rainy days.

But he wasn't.

What could I have said that was so heartless?

Forgive me, I was nine.