bus rider

When the hustle and franticness of getting ready on time in the morning is over, two days a week Nick and I get to slow it back down to our own pace. I sit on the couch and he sits in front of the window and we watch as Maggie gets on the bus. We are lucky that the bus passes our house a second time on the last loop back toward school, so she would have to miss the bus twice to actually miss the bus. Most days she catches the bus from the left. On days like today when we are just a tad behind she catches the bus from the right.

Just this morning I thought to myself how grown up Maggie looks. She’s so far from the young kindergartener she was just a few months ago.

It never ceases to amaze me what a difference which side the bus comes from can make.

When she misses the first go round, that means she will have to cross in front of the bus to get on it. She’s done it plenty of times and she is cautious about stepping in front of the bus. But I hold my breath a little every time.

But what gets me the most, when the bus comes from the right is after she turns the corner, all I can see are her feet as she steps up on the huge first step of the bus. Her little left foot stretching up on its tiptoe to get the oomph to climb up. Suddenly she is still my little girl. And I tear up. Every time.

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