Elisabeth enters my life.

Fascinating. Yes, that describes Elisabeth. She's captured my attention. My imagination, too. A stranger. But someone I need to know. To connect with. Not as a true love. No nothing like that. But as a friend. Because I already have an Italian true love. I know women. Other women. Nice women. Fascinating women, in fact. I have only one true love. But a fair number of female friends and acquaintances. Anyway, Elisabeth is a middle-aged French woman. And she's unusual. Extraordinary, it seems to me. Maybe because she drives a bus. A very long, long bus. Fifteen meters long. She's been a bus driver for 24 years. Maybe half of her life. I met Elisabeth in the parking lot at the airport in Beauvais, 40 miles north of Paris. I had to find my way to Charles deGaulle Airport in Paris. To catch another flight. The next day. I had missed Elisabeth's bus earlier. Just by a few minutes. Maybe that was a godsend. Because that bus had 13 passengers. Elisabeth would have been spread thin. Not enough time to converse with me other than in a perfunctory way. But four hours later, there was Elisabeth and the bus once again. This time only three passengers. I was able to corner Elisabeth. And chat. Because the bus wasn't gonna leave for another hour. She didn't speak much English. But enough for me to understand. And so did Elisabeth. Reasonably well. As long as I spoke slowly. And I know a little French. More than I thought. From 50 years ago. When I took two years of French in college. I surprised myself. With some word recall. Anyway, Elisabeth and I got to know each other. In significant, meaningful ways. We're no longer total strangers. And we'll converse again. I'm sure of it. We're friends. Just friends. Better than being strangers. Never did I expect to see a woman driving a mammoth bus. The longest bus I've ever seen. But Elisabeth does it all smoothly. At nighttime. Racing down country roads. And onto busy, congested French streets. She got me all the way to deGaulle. Right up to the door of Terminal 2. Just where I was supposed to be. Where I bid adieu to Elisabeth. For now. But not forever. We'll correspond, I'm sure. As I do with other friends. With Rosie. With Cherie. With Veralise. All wonderful women. Wonderful friends. I stay in touch. And keep learning more about 'em all. Because I want to. They are fascinating. Each and everyone. They used to be strangers. But no more. I expect them to remain in my life. For the rest of my time on Mother Earth. Gives me a feeling of peace and joy. And fulfillment. --Jim Broede