The Morning Ride
I love fall weather. I love fall fashion. I love the explosion of colors and the crackling of dried fallen leaves as I step on them when I walk around my front and backyard. I love fall.
I hate fall because winter is just right behind her. I hate fall because of the yearly disappointment that the Cubs bring or the inconsistent play of my beloved Badgers football team. I mainly hate fall because when I go to work it’s dark and when I get home, it’s also dark.
During the fall season, also known as school season, it’s harder to get the rugrats up for a day of fun-filled learning. Now that I have three passengers in my fuel efficient maintenance required light check engine light on Honda Civic, it’s even more difficult to have a stress free morning.
I get so loud and stressed out in the morning that I even stress out my usually calm wife. I can’t help it. I just hate rushing and being late for work. And since my drive to work is a little over an hour, a five minute delay leaving the house would translate into an extra 15 minutes of traffic.
However, as soon as I’m in the car, I usually relax and go on automatic pilot. I tune the radio to NPR and all is good. The children also settle down and get comfortable for the hour long ride.
This morning was like any other morning. I raised my voice. I hurried them up. We ate the wonderful breakfast that my wife prepared. We got in the car. And we were off. The temperature was a perfect fall weather, a sweater weather morning. Naturally, it was dark.
As we near our first stop, my youngest child’s pre-school, I saw a mother with her child. The mother was wearing an orange jacket and a brown back-pack. She was carrying her child as she stood at a bus stop. The light turned red and I stopped. I watched the mother rock her child gently back and forth. Her lips were moving and I assumed that she was singing to her child, the same way I sing and rock my youngest to sleep.
Her child’s stroller was in front of her. And as she sang and rocked her child, she would occasionally look south to see if the bus was coming. The light turned green and I released my foot off the break and I drove off. As my car sped away, I looked at my rear view mirror and saw the woman and her child become smaller and smaller.
I looked to my right. My third child sat next to me half-asleep as he listened to his MP3 player. I glanced at the back seat and I witnessed my youngest, in his car seat staring at the light that is peering through the morning sky while my fourth child, Smiley Face, was making sure that her younger brother finishes his breakfast. There’s no need for me to look south. While I love them so, thank God that I don’t have to wait for the bus with these laggards.
