When I was just a kid, the end of summer meant crisp new school clothes, text books wrapped in home-made brown paper bag covers, and school bus rides. We reunited with classmates we hadn’t seen since June and introduced ourselves to new friends. Fast forward a few years and the only school buses you would see would be ones you didn’t ride on. There was a new generation of kids sitting where you used to sit peering out the windows in wonder at their growing world.
To me it’s still a phenomenon of sorts. When the seasons change, that means to me that a fairly big chunk of time has passed you by and maybe you had a birthday or an anniversary that denotes the passing of that time. Back when we rode those school buses, we were saying goodbye to our favorite swimming holes and summer camps and hello to those wrapped text books and stiff new shirts. Now it’s more like saying goodbye to the lawnmower and hello to the falling leaves and rakes that were stashed in the garage. There will be incoming football and outgoing baseball and colder nights and, in the back of your mind, you wonder if you need a new snow shovel or not. And when you take a walk around town, you’ll the see school buses circling the Green with seats filled with curious eyes just like it always did, and you remember back to when you were in one of those seats, wishing you were back at that swimming hole and not headed to some classroom being taught something you have no desire to learn.
The beauty of changing seasons. Just as you get tired of summer, here comes fall. Round and around it goes, just like the tires on a school bus.