Hey there young boy..I see you there every morning, on the porch of your decrepit old house, always alone, waiting for the school bus. I’m the lady in the minivan who just deposited her kids at their schools, taking a short cut through your sad little neck of the woods, just blocks from the bigger, nicer homes where parents are standing on the corners with their children, holding their hands until they take their seat on the bus, trading weekend play dates with the other parents.
I want you to know that I saw the big grin when your bus pulled up, and the pep in your step when you lit to the curb was inspiring. I saw you high -five the bus driver too.
But the best part , you missed it little warrior..was the look on your driver’s face when you skipped to your seat..the big smile on her face, pure delight. It took her an extra second to compose herself as she pulled in the STOP sign that held me captive, watching you, watching her.
I don’t feel sorry for you anymore.