At a quiet bus stop in a small East Coast town, about ten people waited for the long-distance bus that would take them to faraway destinations. The soft hum of idle chatter filled the air, accompanied by the occasional sound of footsteps on the pavement. Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the screeching sound of tires on the road. A car came speeding into the stop and braked abruptly, turning every head.
A middle-aged woman, her face flushed with urgency, stepped out of the car and scanned the crowd. Her gaze landed on one of the young women, seated on the bench, with her bags packed beside her.
“Mom?” the young woman said, startled.
It was clear to the others at the bus stop that this was an unplanned reunion. The daughter, in her early twenties, was on her way to the West Coast, heading to a university in a small town across the country. She had chosen the long bus ride to mark the beginning of a new chapter in her life, away from everything she’d known.
Her mother, still catching her breath from the rushed drive, was visibly relieved when she finally saw her daughter. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving so soon,” she said, almost accusingly. “Did you talk to him? Did it go okay?”
The daughter nodded, her expression calm. “Yeah. I cried a little, fake tears, you know. He didn’t put up much of a fight. Agreed to the breakup right away.”
Her mother’s eyes softened, and she sighed. “Well, I’m glad. You’ll send me a message when you get there, right?”
“I’ll text you when I’ve found a job,” her daughter replied, flashing a teasing grin.
The mother hesitated for a moment, then reached into her purse and pulled out a small box, placing it in her daughter’s hands. It was a box of contraceptives. The daughter looked at it for a moment, surprised but not entirely. They had always had an open relationship, discussing these matters frankly.
“I’m not giving you this to lecture you,” her mother said, her voice tinged with both seriousness and affection. “But I want you to remember—denial is also an option. You’re in charge of your own decisions.”
The daughter nodded, her expression softening. “Thanks, Mom.”
As the bus pulled up, its brakes hissing, the passengers began gathering their belongings. The mother and daughter stood together quietly, knowing their time was running short. The driver opened the doors and waved for people to board.
Before stepping onto the bus, the mother wrapped her arms around her daughter in a tight embrace. The words that followed lingered heavily between them.
“If contraception and abortion had been the norm, part of women’s rights back when I was young,” the mother whispered, “I might not have had you.” She smiled, bittersweet, as if reflecting on an old, long-buried thought.
The daughter blinked, her throat tightening as she hugged her mother back. “I know.”
The bus driver honked the horn, signaling that the car parked in front of the bus needed to be moved. The mother released her daughter and smiled through the bittersweet tears that threatened to spill.
“Go on,” she said softly. “Go live your life.”
With one last look back, the daughter stepped onto the bus, and the doors closed behind her. The mother, taking a deep breath, walked back to her car, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the air as the bus slowly pulled away from the curb.
Biden administration proposes free over-the-counter birth control
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