The concept of transportation has been on my mind this week. I've been temping for my school district's transportation office and it's brought back some surprisingly lovely memories and triggered some insightful introspection.
I only rode the school bus for a few years as a child, but I've realized that I actually have some decent stories and over the next few days I would like to share three of those with you.
Unexpected Absence
When I was five years old I would regularly take the bus home from school, but on special occasions my mom would come pick me up. Every afternoon my teacher would wait at the back entrance with the students to make sure we got on the right bus or left with a known guardian. But on one particular day my teacher put me on my bus and some time later my mother arrived to take me home. My teacher had forgotten that I wasn't supposed to get on the bus that day, and according to my mother, her face completely drained of color when she saw my mom and realized what she had done. My mother has told me that this was one of the most terrifying and infuriating moments of her life, as every possible terrible thing that could have happened to me as a result of taking the bus home like I did nearly every day raced through her mind.
I was one of the first kids dropped off on our bus route, and she knew that I would have gotten off the bus before she was able to get home, so you can imagine how scared she was when she got back and I was nowhere to be found.
My experience of this event was not nearly as terrifying. I remember walking up to the door and it being locked. I tried again, thinking perhaps I was not the strong, muscular kindergartener that I thought I was, but no, it was definitely locked. So I turned around and sat on the doorstep, confused, and slightly sad that I had been forgotten, but it never crossed my mind that something bad might happen to me as I sat there alone. In my eyes, everyone and everything was good and beautiful and there was no reason for someone to hurt me, so why should I worry? Luckily, my bus driver saw me sitting outside as he started to drive away, stopped, and told me to get back on the bus. He clearly had a less idealistic view of the world than I did. I didn't really understand why getting back on the bus was a good idea, but my friends were still there so I was happy to get back on and spend more time with them.
I think we don't realize how much we love someone until their life, or at least your relationship, is in danger. When my cat never came home one evening, when my friend was in a bad accident, when both of my parents had life-threatening illnesses - these were the times that I realized how deeply I cared about these people. The all encompassing fear of loss - that pit in your stomach...few things are as painful. I think it's the not knowing that makes the threat of loss this dark looming cloud that seems to take over your whole being, if only for a moment. But that overwhelming relief when your loved one returns, or escapes danger, or recovers - that is a feeling I cannot describe. I think my mom felt 10 times that kind of relief when she saw me get off the bus the second time. I remember her crying and hugging me and giving my bus driver an outpouring of gratitude for keeping me safe. I didn't understand her reaction at the time, since I never felt scared, but it has stuck with me all these years.
The older I get and the more I experience the threat of loss, the more I realize just how much my mother loves me. Sometimes it's easy to "know" that someone loves you, but for whatever reason, it's difficult for you to actually experience the reality of their love. This is unfortunately true of my relationship with my mother most of the time, but looking back, this moment is a concrete experience of her love. I may not always understand the way the my mother demonstrates her feelings for me, but I cling to memories like these that prove to me how much she really does love me. I can only hope she has these kinds of memories of me as well.
I only rode the school bus for a few years as a child, but I've realized that I actually have some decent stories and over the next few days I would like to share three of those with you.
Unexpected Absence
When I was five years old I would regularly take the bus home from school, but on special occasions my mom would come pick me up. Every afternoon my teacher would wait at the back entrance with the students to make sure we got on the right bus or left with a known guardian. But on one particular day my teacher put me on my bus and some time later my mother arrived to take me home. My teacher had forgotten that I wasn't supposed to get on the bus that day, and according to my mother, her face completely drained of color when she saw my mom and realized what she had done. My mother has told me that this was one of the most terrifying and infuriating moments of her life, as every possible terrible thing that could have happened to me as a result of taking the bus home like I did nearly every day raced through her mind.
I was one of the first kids dropped off on our bus route, and she knew that I would have gotten off the bus before she was able to get home, so you can imagine how scared she was when she got back and I was nowhere to be found.
My experience of this event was not nearly as terrifying. I remember walking up to the door and it being locked. I tried again, thinking perhaps I was not the strong, muscular kindergartener that I thought I was, but no, it was definitely locked. So I turned around and sat on the doorstep, confused, and slightly sad that I had been forgotten, but it never crossed my mind that something bad might happen to me as I sat there alone. In my eyes, everyone and everything was good and beautiful and there was no reason for someone to hurt me, so why should I worry? Luckily, my bus driver saw me sitting outside as he started to drive away, stopped, and told me to get back on the bus. He clearly had a less idealistic view of the world than I did. I didn't really understand why getting back on the bus was a good idea, but my friends were still there so I was happy to get back on and spend more time with them.
I think we don't realize how much we love someone until their life, or at least your relationship, is in danger. When my cat never came home one evening, when my friend was in a bad accident, when both of my parents had life-threatening illnesses - these were the times that I realized how deeply I cared about these people. The all encompassing fear of loss - that pit in your stomach...few things are as painful. I think it's the not knowing that makes the threat of loss this dark looming cloud that seems to take over your whole being, if only for a moment. But that overwhelming relief when your loved one returns, or escapes danger, or recovers - that is a feeling I cannot describe. I think my mom felt 10 times that kind of relief when she saw me get off the bus the second time. I remember her crying and hugging me and giving my bus driver an outpouring of gratitude for keeping me safe. I didn't understand her reaction at the time, since I never felt scared, but it has stuck with me all these years.
The older I get and the more I experience the threat of loss, the more I realize just how much my mother loves me. Sometimes it's easy to "know" that someone loves you, but for whatever reason, it's difficult for you to actually experience the reality of their love. This is unfortunately true of my relationship with my mother most of the time, but looking back, this moment is a concrete experience of her love. I may not always understand the way the my mother demonstrates her feelings for me, but I cling to memories like these that prove to me how much she really does love me. I can only hope she has these kinds of memories of me as well.
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