The Bus Stop: Matt’s perspective

I loved the bus stop. I miss those days when my siblings and I stood beneath that enormous oak tree, waiting for the bus.

The bus stop was the place where Kelli, Jeremy and I gathered everyday. Regardless of what was filling our lives at the moment, we always came together at the bottom of the driveway for a few minutes each day before going forth and taking on the world.

Yes, it’s true. I would tell Kelli and Jeremy that if you placed your ear on the street, you could hear the vibrations of the bus from far away. There may have been a time when I actually believed this, but eventually it became a way of getting Jeremy to lie down in the street so I could inwardly laugh at him. 

And yes, it’s true that we collected “Cocoa Puffs,” which were actually tiny, multicolored insect egg sacks that would fall from the tree and land on the ground. And yes, referring to multicolored spheres as Cocoa Puffs seems a little ludicrous today.

There was also the day when Kelli, still in first grade, had to pee while waiting for the bus. Being latch key children in every sense of the word, our parents had already left for work long before we ventured down to the bus stop. I had a key tied around my neck on a length of string, but knowing that the bus would arrive any minute, I told Kelli to hold it.

She started crying, begging, pleading to pee. After a moment, I handed her the key and told her to hurry up. She ran up the driveway and into the house.

We waited. And waited. She did not return. I grew impatient and worried. I became annoyed and frustrated.

Finally I told Jeremy to hold the bus if it arrived, and I ran back into the house to find out what had happened.

In her haste to pee quickly, Kelli had launched herself onto the toilet and fallen straight through, When I peeked my nose into the bathroom, the only thing I could see were her head and her feet. The rest of her was jammed in the toilet bowl.

She was crying.

I managed to extract her from the toilet, and she cleaned herself off, but in the meantime, the bus had come and gone. Jeremy had been too shy to tell the bus driver to wait for us.

I called my mother at work to tell her that we had missed the bus, and she told us to stay home for the day. A third grader and a first grader were instructed to stay home alone and “make sandwiches for lunch.”

A different time or questionable parenting? I’m not sure, but I recall it being a great day for the two of us.