From the author:
About 10 years have passed since that incident, and I still think that after all it was: a chain of accidents or real help of some higher powers, a Guardian Angel?
Like most graduates of schools in small towns of our vast Motherland, after receiving a certificate of secondary education, I went to study at a university in a regional city, unlearned and did not return to my "historical homeland" (where to work and how to live ?!), being there only on short visits - visit mom and grandmother once a month.
In the early 2000s, in one year, I had to devote every weekend to “visiting my homeland”: my grandmother, who was then 91 years old, fell, broke her hip and never got out of bed. I went 120 km home to help my mother wash her bedridden grandmother, bring diapers for seriously ill patients, and just morally support both of them - except me, they have no one. I didn’t have a car then, I took an intercity bus, left immediately after work on Friday, and came back on Sunday.
In order to leave on Friday evening, I had to go to the bus station in advance of the week, Tuesday or Wednesday evening, after work and buy a ticket.
There were long queues for tickets at the station, the aunties sat outside the windows and slowly issued tickets for travel.
Those who remember (I don’t think that it was only in our city) will confirm that the "service" was still there … - you will spend so much time and nerves. Well, where to go - in any case, I needed a ticket for every Friday, so I spent Wednesday (or Tuesday) evening in line.
My work schedule was then stable - on Fridays until 17:00, and I always bought a ticket for the same time at 17.45.
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One Wednesday, as usual, I got in line, tuned in to the usual long, tedious, uninteresting pastime. There was a woman in front of me about my mom's age. The woman asked me something, I answered her - and away we go.
We "caught on with tongues", as they say. At first, of course, they complained about this queue and the slowness of the cashiers, then they just talked about neutral topics, nothing personal.
So, while talking, the woman's turn came, she calls my city (oh, what a coincidence), only the time is 18.30. Pays off and leaves.
After her, the cashier immediately asks me, I say the name of the city and (oops … apparently, I chatted with this woman) I call her the same time - 18.30. Damn it! And I need it at 17.45!
But the cashier is already writing me a ticket for this time, I take it, scold myself. I work on Fridays until 17 o'clock, in half an hour I reach the station. And now I have an hour in reserve - neither here nor there.
I didn’t ask for another ticket - I ran into the indignation of the queue and the cries of the cashier. We'll have to walk for an hour on Friday. It's annoying, but not critical.
This very Friday has come. In the evening after work, I arrived at the station. The bus leaves at 17.45., I think with anguish: "What a fool, well, how did it happen, now I would already sit at the window and hit the road."
I waited for my flight at 18.30. The bus is full as always. There are no women in line. The seat next to me is empty (tickets were sold to us one after another, respectively - next to). They do not send us for three or four minutes, they are waiting for the passenger to this empty seat, there is data that the ticket has been sold.
We are moving forward. Let's go. Halfway we "caught up" with the bus at 17.45. - he was lying on his side in a ditch. Nearby there are ambulances, traffic police, commotion, vanity. (Later, in the news, I watched and read about this accident - the trailer somehow unhooked from the KamAZ in front of the bus, and a collision occurred, as a result of which five people died on the spot, two more died later in the hospital).
I came to my mother, I tell her, my hands are shaking, my voice is trembling - that's how I had to go on that bus, if not for the woman who “chatted” me, who, by the way, did not go by herself.
I understand that I cannot remember it at all, even approximately. And my memory for faces is excellent, professional. If I have seen a person at least once, even in a glimpse, having seen him again, I can remember where and how we have already crossed. But I don't remember it, very vaguely - only outlines.
After this incident, I continued to ride the bus at 17.45 - without incident. Six months later, my grandmother died, I stopped traveling so often.
I think what it was after all: a chain of accidents or real help from some higher powers, a Guardian Angel?