Tuesday, September 01, 2015


This morning as I walked the circle clockwise and the school bus picking up high-schoolers drove it counter-clockwise, we passed twice. Both times I walked as close as I could to the bus in the predawn light and immediately stepped into its wake as it passed.

That bright yellow blur in the early hours is a nostalgic send-off for anyone who grew up in America. I wanted to feel the wind, smell the diesel and see if maybe I could find exactly what it is and where we go when we see the school bus. I didn't really. Nostalgia is never so exact. By nature it's vague.

Maybe it's just the notion of Autumn creeping in, and September signals that, that sends us to a place in our memories that we imagine as innocent. It's never January you think of when you see a school bus, or God forbid, February. And while I can't think of a particular place or a specific time that school buses call up for me, in my mind there's a slight chill in the air and a sense that the day ahead holds promise. It's vague.

But today's high will be 91 and summer isn't over in Florida until November.

I'm not complaining. The day still holds promise.   

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