School Bus Driver

school bus

One path that I run through my neighborhood takes me up San Vincente, around the country club and past the golf course.  There are parts of the road that are long stretches of nothing, yet there are cars, buses, and even food trucks parked on the shoulder.  It seems like it’s a quiet, shady place for a person to pull over and spend a little time napping, relaxing, reading the newspaper, or eating a quiet hand packed lunch.

I try not to make eye contact with too many of these people.  Yes, because I don’t want to look like I’m staring at them in their cars and because I don’t want to disturb their quiet time – but also because I am usually bright red, covered in sweat and gasping embarrassingly for air.

But I always glance just to see what they’re up to.  You know – just to make sure they’re ok in there, I guess.

Today, like most days, there is a section of the road where school buses are all parked in a row.  Usually, the buses are empty, a brief moment of quiet for their school day.  I always reminisce about times I spent on school buses years ago.  The trouble we’d cause.  The fun we would have for that quick social hour on the way to school.

But today, I ran past one big yellow bus and slowed way down.

There was an older man in the drivers seat.  He had a music stand set up in the aisle that was overflowing with sheet music, and he was playing a classical guitar.

He looked up at me and we both smiled big.  I flashed him two thumbs up and kept on running.

Sometimes – when you look up – you get to witness the really beautiful, simple moments in life.


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