The Bus That Never Came

I was ten years old, standing at the bus stop with my cousin, my backpack slung over one shoulder, my heart pounding like it was trying to escape my chest. We were supposed to go on a trip together—somewhere exciting, somewhere else. I didn’t have a ticket, but I was sure, somehow, it would work out. The night before, I’d even dreamed about it: the rumble of the bus engine, the wind rushing through the open window, the adventure waiting for me just beyond the horizon.

But when we got there, the driver barely glanced at me. “No room,” he said. Just like that. The doors hissed shut, the bus pulled away, and I was left standing there, watching it disappear down the road. My cousin got on. I didn’t.

For years, that moment stuck with me. Not because I missed the trip, but because of how it made me feel: small. Like the world was something that happened to you, not something you could shape. So I stopped dreaming big. I decided that if I just worked hard enough, if I kept my head down and did what was expected, I’d be fine. I’d be safe. No more bus stops. No more disappointment.

But here’s the thing about playing it safe: you don’t go anywhere.

I built a life that looked good on paper. Good job. Good reviews. But somewhere along the way, I realized I was just going through the motions. I was checking boxes, not chasing anything. And then one day, I asked myself: What if I’m still standing at that bus stop? What if I’m still waiting for a ride that will never come—because I never dared to plan for it?

That’s when I understood: Dreaming isn’t the problem. Giving up on dreams is.

I started small. I let myself imagine what I actually wanted—not just “success,” but what that looked like. The freedom to choose my projects. The impact I wanted to have. I wrote it down. I took one step. Then another.

And here’s what I learned: The bus always comes. Maybe not the first one. Maybe not the second. But if you’re clear about where you want to go, if you’re ready to take a step forward, something will take you there. You just have to be at the stop, ticket in hand, when it arrives.

Now, when I work with clients—managers, executives, people who’ve spent years playing it safe—I see that same hesitation. “What if it doesn’t work out?” But the real question is: What if it does? What if the only thing standing between you and the life you want is the courage to dream it first?

So here’s my challenge to you: What’s your bus? The dream you’ve been too afraid to name? The one you pushed down because it felt too big, too risky, too unrealistic? Write it down. Not as a fantasy, but as a destination. Then take one step toward it. Buy the ticket. Pack the bag. Stand at the stop.

Because the bus will come. And this time, you’ll be ready to get on.