Schoolbus

I am stuck in traffic. A school bus heading my direction is stopped, lights flashing, while a mom talks with the driver. The conversation lasts several minutes. I begin to get impatient when I recall a similar incident that happened 19 years ago. But this time I am the Mom and the bus is on a quiet street in a suburb of Nashville.

Colby had wanted to ride a school bus from the time he knew what a school bus was. He must have been about 18 months old then. I remember taking him to the bus parking lot in Minnesota, where I grew up, when he was a little over two and we stayed there in the car for more than half an hour, looking at acres of buses. Colby was as thrilled as any toddler could be.

On the first few days of kindergarten I took Colby to school. The first day the parents were supposed to meet the teacher. On the second day I had to sign some papers, the third day I had to drop something off. So it wasn't until the end of the first week of school that Colby finally got to ride in a schoolbus. He waited at the end of the driveway with several neighborhood kids, while I stood halfway between the house and the end of the drive. When the bus came he gave me a wave and marched behind the other kids across the road and into the schoolbus. But just as quickly Colby marched back out and began to run across the road. The driver, a burly guy named Charlie, jumped out of the bus and caught Colby before he reached the center line. I half walked, half ran to the bus and began a conversation with Colby and Charlie. All was well. Colby just had a bit of a panic. It happened to a lot of kids. After a few minutes Colby sat on a seat inside the bus and Charlie closed the bus door and waved goodbye.

The drivers of the three cars who had lined up behind the bus all gave me a friendly wave as they passed and I remember being so grateful that they were not angry at the delay. I think of that now and when this bus, today's bus, finally pulls away from the mom, amid the rush of accelerating cars and a few rude gestures from other drivers I slow to give the mom a friendly wave. She looks surprised, then smiles and waves back. I wave not only to show her I am not impatient about the delay, but to thank her for triggering a nice memory about my son.