Saying Goodbye

For the past few weeks, my daughters have been going to a local day camp. They meet the bus daily at a popular park and ride off the highway where many other day camps pick up their campers.

The most amazing thing I find is watching the various mothers put their children on the bus and say goodbye.

There is one lady who works out at the same gym as me. She is perfectly fit, in the tightest black short shorts and black tank you have ever seen. She pulls up in her shiny navy blue mini van. As soon as the bus pulls up, she hops out, shuffles her two boys out of her car and into the bus without so much as a wave goodbye and a backwards glance with a have a great day. She probably doesn't want to be late to her tennis lesson, followed by personal training.

The same bus doesn't pull away so quickly as there is another mom and her daughter saying goodbye for an eternity. This mom is thin, but not fit, her hair pulled back in a long ponytail, with a black stretchy headband pulling her bangs back. After her extended goodbye to her child, she tells the bus to wait, she forgot something. She scampers over to her car and gets the forgotten item and brings it back to the bus. Then stands there and watches the bus pull away. I am amazed at how every single day there can be a forgotten item, perhaps it is staged, I sense major separation issues in the future.

As this bus leaves another one comes, out of this one a cute teenagers hops out and directs the children onto the bus. After the children get on and the bus seems full it waits. About five minutes later a old red Pontiac four door sedan pulls up. A mom with frizzy 80 styled hair in baggy turquoise pants and mismatched shirt slowly gets out, gets her two kids from the back of her car and leisurely saunters over to the bus. All I am thinking, is that how can she be late every single day? How come she doesn't pull right up to the bus? She moves as if she doesn't have a care a in the world, she watches the bus pull away and then quickly pulls out of the lot.

I am enamored by the scene that unfolds each day. So much so that I look forward to drop off time. I can probably go on and on describing each mom down to their footwear, however our bus pulls up.

It is definitely a school bus, obviously an old, un-air-conditioned school bus, yet something is off because it is the not the traditional yellow of a bus but instead it is painted daffodil yellow, an odd bright yellow that reminds me of bananas before they are ripe. It stops, I get out, I am somewhat fit, my hair is somewhat brushed, my outfit somewhat put together. My kids wait for me at the door of the car, I give them big hugs and kisses, walk them to the bus, wait for them to get on, as they get on I wish them a great day and then make sure they have a seat. I walk back to my car and wave as the bus pulls away.

I wonder if anyone even pays attention to us. I am hoping if they do they see a loving mother, who looks somewhat put together, with her well-adjusted children, who wants to make sure her kids are okay and happy before heading off for the rest of the day.