Bus Report #773

I watched the 22 Fillmore speed by the other morning, so I walked up to the Sutter stop and waited there, in the dark, under the broad leaves of one of the immense trees that line that block.
The world's oldest school security guard, Mr. Taylor, shuffled over and in his whispery voice he said good morning.
I smiled and wished him the same, and then he began talking again. I had to move closer to hear him.
He told me that a couple weeks ago he was getting off the bus and he fell on his face, losing a tooth and getting a hard knock on the head at the same time. I'd been wondering about the tooth ever since I noticed it was missing. When he told me what had happened, I felt a pang of worry. I wanted to wrap him up in bubble wrap.
"It's all right," he said. "I went to get one of those... Whatsits, a head scan? and the doctor told me I was going to be okay." he smiled and then said, "except, of course, for the tooth."
"I'm relieved you're okay," I said. "That's really scary."
"They said especially because at my age, I can't heal as fast as I did when I was younger." He smiled and looked away, up towards Fillmore Street. "Here comes the bus," he said.