The Sound of Buses

I know I have written about this, or at least reflected in my own mind, what the sound of buses means to me, NOW. Not then, but now. For almost 30 years, the sound of buses ruled my day in the school building, I prayed the students got to school safely, and home again. I was "programmed" as a principal or teacher that at 8:25 and again at 3:25 bus arrivals and dismissals would set the tone for the day, or the evening, depending if any "issues" arose. The responsibility as a principal was far more heavy on my mind and heart. I really didn't mind staying late, or going early, to deal with any bus situations, I was just thankful when all could be resolved.

But NOW, I see and hear the sound of buses differently. Being home, I must admit that while I miss all those days of greeting students, or sending them on their way, I don't miss the pressure that came from it, stress I didn't even realize was part of my being, because it was just what you I did, day in and day out. NOW, the sound of buses signifies other things and I see things in amazing ways. I see the young mothers and fathers waiting in the morning and in the evening, hoping beyond hope that their children are comfortable and fine with their new surroundings. I recall, with vivid memory, the gut feeling of sending that 5 year old off to face the world, an eldest daughter more timid, a younger one ready to take on the world. With every face on that bus, I recognize some child I have taught or "disciplined" in my office! I see the smiles and hear the sound of laughter as our neighborhood children began school yesterday in their year round setting. And I have become that "old" lady, in her robe, watching from the deck, as our special neighbor girl started kindergarten and her sister cried as she was left at home for the first time, alone with her mom to venture without big sister. I'm sure if anyone would have glanced over and saw this vision on the deck, hair blowing in the wind, robe flapping, a tear in my eye, they may wonder what in the world could be going through my head! Probably quite a sight!

But, what goes through my head is how busy life was in those days, and I wonder, did I slow down enough to smell the roses, listen to the beautiful sound of a bus going by, laughter of children on a bus. I know I did, but sometimes I cannot remember. I can only remember how life changed so drastically and is now measured for all three of us, before Allie got sick, and after. I can barely retrieve the precious memories of raising the girls through the elementary years, never knowing those were the best times of our lives. I look at the parents who scurry off to work, to the gym, to the next task, and I know that life just goes on, we do our best with each given day, and we live life.

Who would have thought in retirement that the sound of busses could bring on such emotion, the buying of the school clothes, the backpacks, the school supplies? Who would have thought that it has caused me to look for the first day of school photos of the girls that are scattered someplace in the basement? Who would have thought that it could bring a tear to my heart, yet a smile on my face? As the streets are now quiet, and the children are at the school, and the busses are dormant until later today, I can only thank God I have the capacity to reflect, remember, embrace the times that once were, and be appreciative of this moment to enjoy. Even the quiet is a gift, every little thing has beome one, for it signifies life and living. Through pangs of loss I can see two little girls who grew up to be big girls and be thankful for what we did have, for as long as we had it, a growing family that can savor memories, while making new ones.