The Buslady’s [possible] Story...

Bernadette, mother, grandmother, sister. Widowed as of two years prior, she still lives in the same small two bedroom home that she raised her three kids in. Her kids have all moved out to the suburbs or further, relegating her to holiday visits and phone calls. Her only real connections are the ones she makes at the Walker library. Faulkner, Nabokov, Twain. These are the people she still holds dear. They give, but don’t take. They are there through out the day, whenever she needs them. The only time she feels lonely again is when she lets go of that last fleeting sentence. The end. Creased cover shut. Purse reloaded with warn experiences and water marks. Bernadette weathered and sullen as she rides the bus back to her empty existence. 

Sorry that got depressing. Just how the picture felt to me this morning.