It is a beautiful February Thursday. I love to be in my yard when the local
school bus rumbles down my rural county numbered road. The bus driver throws me a wave and
sometimes the students wave too. I
remember my Mother sending a note to my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs.
Massengail requesting that I be
allowed to walk home. My teacher
was not to keen on the idea and I really cannot remember if I actually had
permission - I just did it anyway.
I hated riding the bus.
Those big yellow school buses intimidated me lined up with numbers all
out of order and grumpy drivers that seemed totally unapproachable. Like how
was a little girl supposed to get on the correct bus when I could not even
figure out what number the bus was or remember what number I was supposed to
look for not to mention it never seemed like I recognized anyone from the day
before? Besides I loved walking
home by myself. I would pick
wildflowers along the way, maybe pick up a horny toad-I thought horny toads
were very friendly-and daydream about all sorts of things as I meandered
home. My Mom had taught me
not to talk to strangers but I usually stayed in the field off the paved road
anyway. I was way more afraid of
stepping on a rattlesnake or any
kind of snake than I was maybe having to run from a slowing car I did not recognize. I kinda wonder now if times have really
changed that much or the media just has us all scared to death of kid
snacthers. Welp, I’m not spending
too much time contemplating that just thankful for my memories and meandering
childhood days. I think I will go
meander right now! kisses
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