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Autumn was my favourite time of year to go on the bus. My route would take me through backroads adorned with red and golden leaves. Deer could often be spotted grazing in the frosty cornfields that were ready for harvest. With the side of my head leaning against the glass, I would slip into a warm and thoughtful frame of mind. My thoughts would often turn to my life, and where I could see it heading. Hopes and dreams tumbled about as my head would bounce off the bus window whenever it hit a pothole. The outcome of the day always seemed positive on those fall mornings when the sun would dance across my face. Heading to school, I eagerly awaited the beginning of the day and all of its potential.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The return trip in the afternoon was much less peaceful. After a day of schedule and structure, my bus mates would explode in unruliness. Slimy remainders of lunches would be thrown, Bluetooth speakers would compete for dominance, and the bus driver would suffer immensely. The external environment did nothing to settle my turmoil within. On the return trip from school, I would reflect on all of the foolish and hurtful things that I said or did. While I was not usually an instigator of classroom drama, I was an active participant in the chaos. As I stared at my reflection in the window, it was not my face that I saw, but the face of my teacher with despair written all over it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Later, on the bus rides home from high school, I came to terms with the issues in my friendships. Most of what my friends and I said to one another was hurtful. We called our pain-inflicting words \u201cjokes\u201d; when we would tear a friend down, we were \u201cjoking around\u201d. My silent reflection on the bus taught me how impactful words can be. As I re-played my friends\u2019 reactions to my words, I could understand more clearly what their feelings truly were. In my seat of solitude, I would realize the punches that I had thrown and received.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My first bus ride happened when I was four. I do not know if I did much reflecting before that age, but I quickly learned that bus rides were terrific places to think. On days without bus rides, I was a different person. In the summers, there was no designated time to reflect on the impact that my words or actions had on others. I would be less sensitive and empathetic because I lost sight of the power of speech. Time also passed faster for me in the summer because I forgot its value. We only realize the value of time when we reflect on how much of it has passed. Mornings and afternoons without the school bus stunted my emotional development.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Bus rides have helped shape me into the person that I am today. As well as showing me how to be thoughtful, school buses taught me how to deal with triumph and failure. On the bus, my teammates and I re-lived our victories and our defeats. The bus was a sanctuary of peace and a time to confront the events that happened hours ago. After taking a loss, my soccer team\u2019s melancholy thoughts must have added two tons more for the bus to carry. Maybe that is why it always took so long to get home after defeat. Yet, when we won the championship and the initial pandemonium of victory subsided to a whisper, I knew that all of our thoughts were on the golden dirt road taking us home and how happy we were for this sunny time in our lives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Many of my life changing experiences took place on the bus. On a bus, I wrestled with my words and actions, I cried after losing the basketball tournament, I told my best friend I was moving, and I experienced the joy of returning home victorious. When my life comes to a close, I hope that there is a window nearby to peer out of. Looking out the window, I would notice that the trees are no longer flying by, the telephone poles are standing still, and the rapidity of life, my life, had slowed down to a stop. I will have arrived at my bus stop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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