Never drive in a big city. You’ll miss too many lessons learned.

Several cultures intersect at the bus stop outside my apartment building, making for interesting observations. Margaret and Martin are a perfect example. 50 years of marriage. There’s great wisdom in those years.

“Martin, I think we should get one.”

“Eh… I don’t think so.”

“But we need one.”

“No, no, we’re fine.”

“How can you say that?”

“Haven’t needed one so far.”

“So you say.” Margaret crossed her arms around her purse and stared at the cracked pavement in front of her. Martin sitting next to her stared into the distance, his lips mouthing words. “Three, two, one…”

“But dear, just think how much better off we would be. All the other girls are getting them. Why, even Phil is getting Florence one.” Margaret thought mentioning one of his buddies might help convince him.

“Phil’s an idiot.”

“Now is that any way to talk? Seriously, he is one of your best friends.”

“Every group needs an idiot in the bunch.”

“Hmph.”

Martin continued to stare straight ahead. He’d won the battle. A few months ago he’d told me that over the 50 plus years they’d been together he’d learned two secrets to a successful marriage. Know when to be quiet. And never smile when you argue with your spouse, and definitely not when you win.

Their bus arrived, they stood as the door stopped in front of them, Martin holding Margaret’s arm as she stepped onto the bus, and him following behind with their fare. I didn’t know what Margaret thought they needed, but I knew if it had been something special or needed Martin would have caved. Martin chose his battles. Lesson learned at the bus stop.

© 2014-2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.