Waving

I like to wave. I wave at people I don’t know. People you don’t know are only friends you haven’t met.

I wave at buses. Especially in traffic jams. There is often a bus parked next to me. I look through the window. Normally someone sees me. I smile. Then I wave. They wave back. Others look. They smile and raise their hands. Soon a Mexican wave of waves spreads through the bus. My best is 6 wavers but I am working on it. It’s sad when the traffic moves. Sometimes we haven’t finished waving.

The Queen waves. But not like me. Her wave is a gentle sweep of the hand. I hold my hand up and open and close my fingers. I use my right hand. It is my waving hand. It’s also my pointing finger hand. And I use it for back patting and seat patting. It’s a busy hand. My left hand has another job. It has my special friend. The thumb that helps me sleep and calms me when bad things happen.

I can multi-task. I can wave and walk. On a good day I can look back, wave and walk. I say “Bye bye” as well. I walk away, look back and wave. Then I look forward. My right hand keeps waving. After I while I look back. If the person’s gone, I keep waving a little bit more just in case they come back for more. You can’t have enough of a good wave.