A Tale of the Bus

When my daughter turned two and started baby nursery, I felt like a seasoned bus traveler. Ever since I moved to the area, I had relied on the bus as my primary means of transport. So, when the day of her first school adventure arrived, I thought I had everything under control. Boy, was I in for a surprise.

Determined to be a responsible and punctual parent, I prepared everything in advance. Her tiny backpack was packed with her essentials, and I double-checked the school schedule to ensure she was supposed to be there by 3.30. As the clock struck 3 o'clock, my anxious mind made me arrive at the bus terminal bench a good fifteen minutes early. I wanted to be absolutely sure that we wouldn't miss the 3.15 bus. I sat there, trying to appear calm and composed, but inwardly, my heart was racing with excitement and anticipation.

Photo: PSM News

As the minutes ticked by, the bus terminal gradually began to fill up with people. It was just five minutes before the scheduled arrival of the school bus, and I didn't think much of it at first. After all, there were three other buses due around the same time - Carnival, Westpark, and Airport bus. Surely, not everyone was waiting for the same school bus as me. But as the crowd continued to grow, my confidence wavered, and anxiety started to creep in.

To my surprise, I noticed an increasing number of children in the same uniform as my little one. Their excited chatter and laughter filled the air, adding to the nervous knot in my stomach. To make matters worse, the parents around me seemed to be forming a line, as if we were queuing for a popular attraction or waiting for an ATM. I felt a mix of bewilderment and awkwardness, unsure of whether I should join the line or just wait patiently at the bench. Sensing my hesitation, I decided to err on the side of caution and picked up my child, cradling her in my arms.

With my heart pounding, I nervously joined the line, my eyes darting around the terminal, searching for any signs of the school bus's imminent arrival. I tried to soothe my anxious mind, reminding myself that this was just the starting point of the bus route. Surely, the bus would be relatively empty and able to accommodate the increasing number of people around me.

As our school bus finally appeared from around the corner of the street, my heart leaped with anticipation. But as it drew closer, my excitement turned to dismay. From the end of the queue line, I could see that the seats were already full. How could that be? This was the starting point of the bus route! My heart sank even lower when the conductor opened the door, and not a single person got off. It became clear that smart parents had already figured out the trick to securing seats - they boarded the bus from the opposite end, where it finished its route.

As the line of people slowly moved into the bus, my anxiety grew. I silently prayed to God, hoping for a miraculous solution. Just as I reached the door, I absently touched both of my kid's feet, a habit formed because she was a known shoe dropper. And to my astonishment, one of her tiny shoes was missing.

Panic washed over me, and I looked back to the bench where we had been waiting. There it was, under the bench, seemingly enjoying the afternoon sun. At that moment, I could almost hear the sound of a game show buzzer going off, signaling defeat. It was as if a huge red sign blinked before my eyes, declaring "GAME OVER.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I hurried back to our bench, sweat beading on my forehead. I scooped up the missing shoe, grateful that it hadn't disappeared entirely. The bus conductor, bless his heart, seemed to understand my predicament and waited patiently as I half-ran back, my daughter bouncing in my arms.

In the midst of the crowd, I found myself standing right in front of the windshield. If the driver were to step on the brakes suddenly, I would be licking the glass. With my heart still racing, I reminded myself that her school was just at the first bus stop. It would be a short ride, and I willed myself to power through. As the bus began to move, I took a deep breath, ready to face the crowded journey ahead.

Standing in there, I realized I didn't have anything to hold on to for support. In one arm, I held my precious little one, her excitement, and curiosity evident in her bright eyes. In my other hand, I clutched her school bag, packed with all the essentials for her first day. Despite the discomfort and the strain in my arm, I focused on the bigger picture. This was my daughter's first day of school, and nothing was going to dampen the joy and pride I felt.

Finally, as the bus came to a stop, I breathed a sigh of relief. We made it to her school on time. As I stepped off the bus, my arm felt like it might fall off from the weight of everything I was carrying. As I hugged her tightly before saying goodbye, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and love for my brave little one. She was embarking on a new journey of learning, growth, and friendship, and I was grateful to be by her side every step of the way. Today was a win.