Wrong Bus

Inspired by Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop.

Prompt #1.) Write a post about a childhood memory as if you’re in that moment again…from the perspective of yourself as that child.

I am in kindergarten now and I am going to be five in October!  Kindergarten is really fun!  My school is really big though and there are a lot of children who are a lot older than me.  It feels a little weird being one of the shortest kids in the whole school!

After school ends we all have to line up in our auditorium to get on our buses.  I think I am in the right line, I think this is my bus but I don’t remember the number and I can’t really read my bus pass.  I don’t know anyone on my bus yet.

I get on the bus.  I don’t know the bus driver but he is a big fat guy named Charlie and he is very jolly!

I am riding on the bus.  I know I have not ridden on the bus that many times but nothing looks like my neighborhood.   It’s nicer here, there are houses and big dark green trees, bigger trees than where I live.  My bus stop is kind of far from where I live anyway so it is probably going to be okay though.

More and more children are getting out and now I am getting scared.  I don’t know what to do!

I am the LAST child on the whole bus.  Charlie stops the bus and says, “Last stop!”

“But-but..this isn’t where I live!”

“I am sorry little girl, this is the last stop on the line.  I have GOT to let you off here.”

The bus door is standing open.  I get up and walk down the stairs and out the door.  Charlie drives away.

This neighborhood is pretty but it is not MINE! I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM!

I am crying now on the corner.  I am so scared.  I know my mommy is waiting for me at MY bus stop.  How will she find me?  How am I going to get home?

Suddenly a girl comes up to me.  She is old, like a teenager and asks me why I am crying.  I tell her BECAUSE I AM LOST!  I am crying so much, I cannot help it, I am so scared!  She leaves me and a minute later she brings out her mommy and I tell her the same thing.  She asks me my name and address and I know it, I have it memorized even though it is really long with lots of numbers!  She takes me into her house, it is nice there, and she puts her arm around me to help me stop crying.  She is a nice lady.  She tells me she is going to call the police!  But to not worry, she is just going to let them know that I am lost.

The police pick me up.  I know not to be afraid of policemen!  I am going to be okay!  I am going to be going home!

When the policeman brings me back to where I live I see my mommy and all of my neighbors waiting.  “Oh, Emily! Emily!”, my mommy is crying and she hugs me hard but why is she crying because now I am not lost any more?

(The above story happened to me in 1974, in Queens, NY, when you didn’t hear about these kinds of things on television or read them in the newspaper, and you really should have.  NOTHING ever happened to the bus driver.  I know because one year he drove my bus route, and for a while I was afraid of him.  The school, the teacher that should have made sure that four-year-old me was getting on the right bus, no one was held responsible.  I know it was 1974, but I guess back then the school was the Almighty and parents were not as involved with school policy like they are today.

I realize how lucky I was, that I might not be here today.  Anyone could have found me on that corner.

As you can probably tell from my writing, that story still brings fear to the little girl that is still with me somewhere, and I do still tear up whenever I hear one of these stories now.

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About mamasick

Emily Cullen is a pen-name. I suffer from chronic illnesses and diseases which include Bipolar Disorder, Asthma, Diabetes and Fibromyalgia. I had battled Lupus and Rheumatoid Arthritis but there is no longer evidence of me having these diseases and my Rheumatologist has declared them to be "burnt out" of my system. I am separated from my husband, “Grant”. Our son, “Tyler” was born in September of 2006 and suffers from tics and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and is delayed in fine and gross motor skills. In my blog I seek to let sick moms know that they are not the only ones going through this, and to educate people about what can happens when one becomes catastrophically ill. I also strive to break down stereotypes of what a “Welfare Mom” is like. Anything that I have gone through due to being sick, is written on the pages of Mama Sick.

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