The bus made a sharp turn, one of those that push you out of your seat. A beer can rolled across the floor and stopped next to my foot.
I look at it and think of him.
There was a time when my Dad worked two or three jobs and one of them was cleaning buses at night. Sometimes I joined him, obviously not because he asked me to, I just wanted to because I thought it was fun. So on weekends, he would allow me to tag along. I remember so many beer cans on those buses. I remember the warehouse, illuminated by aggressive fluorescent light, the buses lined up, like sleeping giants, waiting for their gig the next morning.
I remember the feeling of adventure, to be out so late, in a space that kids normally don’t have access to. I was exhilarated. I remember me and my dad singing Italian songs together and laughing a lot while cleaning on opposite sides of the bus. I remember scrapping off a lot of gum from windows. Sometimes he would tell me off for slowing him down and being annoying and he would threaten to not take me with him next time.
I remember wondering if this was the life he was imagining when he immigrated to Germany.
My Dad never had a dream in his life. Or so I thought for a long time. Not even a hobby. He dropped out of school after two years and started working with his father at the age of 8. He has always been in the business of hard manual labour. And he never did anything else other than work.
He never pursued an interest, a creative idea or passion. As an immigrant he didn’t have any close or solid, supportive friendships. The most leisurely thing I have ever seen my Dad do is read a book, usually his bible.
On some rare occasions I remember him dancing with me around the house.
Whenever I asked him about the things he loved doing, he laughed and never answered.
His life consisted of work. From 5 am in the morning til 6 pm at night. And oftentimes he was off to a second job after that. Six days a week. For over fifty years. All of this in spite of two physical disabilities. His only focus was working to take care of us. To put food on our table and keep a roof over our heads.
Every time I see litter on the bus, I think about the little boy born in a small Sicilian town that went on to clean buses in a small German town.
I think of the dreams he might have had and the ones he didn’t have because he couldn’t see what he could be. Because nobody showed him.
I think about the drive and curiosity that drove him to leave his motherland. I think about the spark of hope and possibility that might have fuelled him.
The brown McDonalds bag, carelessly left behind on the bus makes me think of the person that is going to clean it up at night.
What are they dreaming of?
I think about how dreams and passions are a product of our circumstances. They say dreaming is free, but is it?
You need mental space to dream. Dreaming comes at a cost. When you have to survive, dreaming is a luxury and you don’t have the currency to pay for it.
Some people don’t get to have the space to dream. Whether that’s because they cannot create the space in themselves or there’s nobody there to make space for them or both. What you are born into can enable your dreams or suffocate them when they are still tiny seeds.
I think about that little boy in a small Sicilian town and his achievements: the legacy of hope that is continued in me. I think about the space I had for dreaming because he did not. He paid the price for me to have the luxury of building a life I love.
I hear the announcement through the speakers, the driver makes another sharp stop. I pick up the can, get off the bus and throw it in a bin.
My Dad at the beach, when I took him on holiday.
"They say dreaming is free, but is it?
You need mental space to dream. Dreaming comes at a cost. When you have to survive, dreaming is a luxury and you don’t have the currency to pay for it." Such an important reminder! For many immigrants I imagine the initial move is the start of a dream but sadly that seed of a dream can get snuffed out very quickly or slowly over time because of how hard the reality can be when they arrive at their destination.
That picture tagged to the end of your dad on holiday. All the feels ❤️