School Bus

We sat down to dinner yesterday, when my husband John looked quickly from me to our son and then back again. He said, "I realized this morning that it's the last day I'll ever see Derek get on a school bus."

"Oh my God," I said, and put my hand over my heart, where I felt a sudden empty-nest ache. "You're right! It's the last time he'll ever be on a school bus. It's been...years. Ever since..."

"I was in 7th grade," Derek said with a look of disgust on his face. "You drove me to school all during elementary school. It's only been five years on the bus, Mom. No big deal, and in fact, thank God it's over."

"Five years is a lot in developmental terms," I said firmly. "A lot." I sighed, thinking of those five years. "Five whole years getting on a school bus, and now it's over, because it's the last day of school. The last day of high school."

"No, it's not," Derek said. He glanced at his father, who was paying deep attention to his dinner. "Tomorrow is the last day of school, and you have to drive me there because I won't be going until about 10 o'clock."

"I'll have to drive you," I said. "I remember when I used to drive you to elementary school, how we'd rush like crazy to make it out the door, how you dawdled over your clothes, forgetting your homework--"

"Right," Derek interrupted. "That was a long time ago. And now I'm done with high school."

"And done with riding on the school bus," I said, sighing. "It's the end of an era."

He groaned, and looked as if he wanted to bang his head on his plate. "NO. It's the BEGINNING of one. The BEGINNING of an era." He looked at his dad. "May I be excused?" He rose and put away his plate before his dad nodded his agreement.

John looked at me. "We have to get our licks in before he goes, right?"

"That's right," I said. "As many as we can."

We smiled at each other and bent once more to our dinner.

--Karen H.