Another memory from my past

You may be thinking,

"Not another post about the shooting,

Wonder when she will move on?"

Yet, can they move on, can they stop their minds

from wondering, thinking, longing for their children?

So, yesterday my thoughts were on when my own 

babies were in school, many old memories flood back.

Some I had not even thought of since it happened.

There is one day that Baby boy did not come home with

the other neighborhood kids off the bus.

He was in kindergarten, only just turned 5.

All the other kids, I noticed were home and yet, my little one

was not. Gypsy baby was a baby and sleeping as I waited and freaked out.

I tried to call school, no answer. This was pre- cellphone days

so there was no calling a teacher on her cell.

I paced, I cried, I walked inside and out....

finally at 5:00pm, one hour past his usual time home,

I see a bus park in front of the street and the bus driver,

Mr. John holding my dear child's hand.

I ran to them, started crying, he could not apologize enough.
I can evoke those feelings today just by remembering that fear.
I remember what he wore, a button down red and white
striped shirt, untucked with his favorite acid washed blue jeans,
I can remember he was sweating across his nose,
as he always did when he was hot.
I can remember his smell. I think those parents have
the same memories.

Two things had happened to cause the delay in getting home.

One, the driver, before he had baby boy,

would sometimes drop the kids off in the street over and they would walk 

across another yard to get home.

Baby boy refused to get off there, even when

the other kids tried to coax him

"I don't live here" the bus driver

said he just would not break my rule of not getting off

anywhere but at your house.

The bus driver told him if he didn't get off here he

would have to ride the whole route before

he could bring him home.

Baby boy said, "Okay"

and went back to sit down and fell asleep.

My reason for this long post?

For that one hour, that long 60 minutes,

my child was lost to me. For those 60 minutes I can

almost know how those parents felt waiting in that

fire station for their child to come through the door.

My baby came home, safely and the next day,

I made sure that for the rest of his elementary years,

he would be dropped off right in front of our home.

These 20 parents did not get that relief.

So, I continue to blog, for them, for us....