Following the Bus...

First let me just say here,

I miss blogging, there was a time where I blogged every morning.

Then divorce, grand girls, art business, retirement, dating

came and I got out of the habit. 

This is my attempt at trying to add that to my life once again.

With that being said, I always have something to say

so may as well share my thoughts....

Yesterday after school, I headed to spend some time

with the grand girls. I found myself following a 

big yellow school bus. 

Now for some, this would be a problem,

a hold-up. For me, I have always enjoyed

following a school bus in the afternoon.

I get pleasure from watching children get off the bus.

I like seeing how they interact with the person/people

that is awaiting their arrival home.

Yesterday I take my time.

I know when our little grand girls get off the bus,

most days there is someone out there awaiting

their arrival, awaiting running towards who ever that is

and getting hugs, smiles and kisses.

Yesterday I remembered... Not everyone gets this.

This post is sparked by one little child in particular.

I do not know her or her family but she could be

many children.

She is about 5 or 6, Looks like she is JoJo's age.

Her uniform is disheveled from having 

to be in school and then a hot bus all day.

I bet if I looked at her little uniform shirt,

I would probably see tomato sauce somewhere

depending on what what was on her lunch tray.

She has such a big smile on her face, her book sac

hanging on one shoulder.

I see two adults on the porch and my first thought is:

"Awe good, she has someone waiting for her,

to greet her home, to say they missed her"

She is running up the stairs and I see that

one of the adults is a man about my age,

perhaps a grandfather, with a brown paper bag 

around a can he is drinking from, a cigarette in his hand.

He is speaking to a woman about his age.

This imp of a child runs up the porch, faces these

two..... and....

nothing, no hugs, no kisses, no conversations

including her. They don't look at her or even acknowledge

her presence. It stays with me a long time.

It has me remembering when I would come home each day

from school, not being able to wait to see my Daddy.

He or Momma was always waiting for us, always

asking about our day. Had our favorite snacks

and whatever we wanted for supper, simmering

in our big kitchen.

In the winter, I could not wait to get into my pj's and

read, paint, make a puzzle that was always there under

our kitchen tablecloth. Daddy was there, present,

long after the bus dropped us off.

I wish for all children, that someone is always 

happy to see them after a long day at school.

I know that our grandgirls will get this for a long 

time to come.