I wonder if the man at the corner sees me. Recognizes my car.
I see him.
On the days we leave the house at the right time. With my girls in the backseat and music in our ears.
The bus slows down, flashing lights, as the stop sign dances into position.
I stop, everyone should stop.
I see his little girl with the sun in her face and his son wrapped in jackets in response to the weather.
The doors swing open and they bounce their way up the steps. Even when they are reluctant, there is a bounce in their step that only kids seem to have.
They make their way with declarations and whispers of i love you’s and have a good day.
Maybe some dad idioms.
A pang of jealousy and fear grip my heart. Every time
Jealous that My girls wont know what its like to ride the bus, to walk down the aisle looking for a seat and eventually friends. Learning all sorts of inappropriate things to test out at home and school.
I wont experience the joy of waiting for them to hop of and run to home to drop their things and run off to play as i try to get them to tell me about their day.
And fear for his children. And the others on the bus. We know the plague that blankets this nation. A heavy invisible blanket of fog thats patched with ‘what if’ and ‘that wont happen to us’ and ofcourse ‘thoughts and prayers’.
I wonder if the man at the corner sees me.
I see him.
