Image via WikipediaNever take for granted the beauty of a yellow school bus. There I said it. I love and miss something awful, yellow school buses. There is something to be said about having your children climb onto those banana yellow vehicles and knowing that theoretically speaking...they will be delivered to and from school, field trips, sporting events, and any and all school sponsered events. Yes, I know when we left Michigan, many schools were in danger of losing busing priveledges, due to cutbacks and difficult financial times. Yes, I admit that my children really hadn't even used the busing system all that often.(save for school field trips) Bailey had used buses only for one year daily because after kindergarten, she walked to school...a mere football field away. Yes, I even acknowledge that on most field trips I took on school buses it was near impossible to open the old, and warped windows. Undoubtedly, there was one child on ever route that was deemed the official "window opener". That child's one and only purpose on the bus was to open the windows that the other children could not. Sigh. Those were the days.
Fast forward a few years to our move to Denmark. The land of the fairy tales, longest living monarchy, and the land of bicycles and public transportation. I won't disagree, these options are probably better for our Earth, our health (at least in the case of biking), and yes, even for our minds, endorphines as Bailey pointed out in an earlier post. But, man do I miss the charm and the ease of the glorious school buses. I am sure you can see that their memory has no doubt, been glamorized in my mind. I have conveniently forgotten the sticky gum on the undersides of the seats, the kids who without a doubt tripped you as you walked back to your seat. The moments of panic that you experienced, when searching for a friends face, or even neighbor to sit next to, instead of the kid that never showered. Yep, I have chosen to forget those memories. The truth of the matter...I hated the school bus. I actually even kicked the bus driver. Not kidding. She came to my graduation party and told me so. She hadn't forgotten me.
For some reason, as a mother/stepmom in a foreign country, the yellow schoolbus has become a comforting symbol to me. Pehaps as a reminder of the simpler days where I didn't have to think about who I needed to pick up, where and/or at what time. In my perfect, imaginary world, they would all simply be delivered at my doorstep by the "Magic Schoolbus" no less... where I would be waiting, *smiling of course* and doing my best June Clever imitation ready to serve fresh baked cookies, and wearing a lovely polka dotted dress and a white freshly pressed apron.
Reality does eventually come creeping in, even although a little delayed. I know that there were/are bullies on school buses, that they are not generally known for their safety features, and that sometimes the only kid who could open the windows got sick on occasion and we would sweat like pigs on the way home, or for that matter loose all feeling in our toes on a ride home during the winter because it was so cold. And lets face it, if I would ever meet my kids at the door wearing a polka dotted dress, with a white pressed apron, holding cookies and smiling...my kids would worry! :)
I have to say that I don't think that longing for days goneby is so much an expat symptom anymore for me. I rather think that it is a direct result of my/our kids growing up, and our lives getting busier and busier, combined with the strong desire to hit the pause, then rewind button/s. The past is known, and predictable, and comforting somehow. So if I you catch me sighing, and talking about the good ole days of the yellow school buses please, bear with me.
Man skulle aldrig tage for givet skønheden i en gul skolebus.
Der sagde jeg det. Jeg elsker og savner den grimme gul skolebusser. Der er noget at sige om at have dine børn køret i skole på dem banan gul buser og vide, teoretisk ... de vil blive leveret til og fra skole, lejer, sports aktivitater, og nemlig alle skoler arrangementer. Ja, jeg kender, da vi flyttet fra Michigan, mange skoler var i fare for at miste bussing muligheder på grund af nedskæringer og dårligt økonomiske tider. Ja, jeg indrømmer, at mine børn virkelig havde ikke engang brugt bussing systeme ikke så ofte. (undtage af skolen ekskursioner) Bailey havde brugt busserne kun i ét år dagligt, da der efter børnehave, hun gik i skole ... cirka 200 meter fra vore gamle hus. Ja, jeg selv erkende, at på de fleste ekskursioner jeg tog da jeg var i skole, skolebusser det var næsten umuligt at åbne den gamle, og bøjede vinduer. Uden tvivl om at var der et stærk barn på ruten, der blev anset som den officielle "vinduesåbner" -- og at barnets eneste formål på bussen var at åbne vinduerne, at de andre børn ikke kunne. Det var de dage! *suk*
Hurtigt frem et par år efter vores flytte til Danmark. Landet med eventyr, længst levende monarki, og landet af cykler og offentlig transport. Jeg vil ikke uenig, er denne muligheder er nok bedre for vores jord, vores sundhed (i det mindste i tilfælde af cykling), og ja, selv for vores psycholigi, på pegede "endorphines" som Bailey i et tidligere blog. Men...jeg savner charmen og den lethed, af den herlige skolebusser. Jeg er sikker på at du kan forstå, at min hukommelsen er ikke i tvivl, er glamorized i mit sind. Jeg har sikkert valgt og glemme klistret tyggegummi på undersiden af sæderne, også de børn, der uden tvivl udløste dig, når du gik tilbage til din plads, og dagene at busene køret cirka 45 minutter til at kom til mans egen hjem. Eller de øjeblikket af panik, som du har oplevet, når du søger efter en vens venlige ansigte, eller en nabo til at sidder ved siden af, i stedet for den knægt, der stinket og aldrig var i bad. Jeps, sikkert har jeg valgt at glemme disse minder. Sandheden af sagen ... Jeg hadede skolen bussen da jeg var lille. Jeg faktisk selv sparkede buschauffør. :) Igen joke! Mange år senere har hun kom til min graduations fest og husket mig det. Hun havde aldrig glemt mig.
På en eller anden grund, som en mor/stedmor i et fremmed land har den gule skolebusse blevet et trøstende symbol for mig. Måske fordi de huske mig om den lette dage hvor jeg behøvede ikke at tænke over, hvem jeg skulle afhente, hvor og/eller på hvilket tidspunkt. I min perfekte fantasi verden, ville de alle bare være leveret fra den "Magic Skolebusser" ikke mindre, på min dør ... hvor jeg ville vente, *smilende selvfølgelig * og gør mit bedste "June Cleaver" efterligning, klar til at servere frisk bagt småkager, klad ud i en dejlig polka prikket kjole med en hvid friskpresset forklæde på.
Realitater til sidste endlig kommer snigende inde, selvom lidt forsinket. Jeg ved, at der var /er dem som mobber på skolebusser, og at de ikke er almindeligt kendt for deres sikkerhed capacitater, og at nogle gange den eneste børn, der kunne åbne vinduerne er syg, og vi har svedete som svin på køresel hjem, Og jeg er 100% sikkert at hvis jeg nogensinde ville møde mine børn på døren klad ud i en polka prikket kjole, med en hvid presset forklæde, med småkager i hånden og smilende ... mine børn ville være meget bekymret! :)
Jeg må sige, at jeg ikke tror, at længsel efter gammel dage er ikke så meget en Expat symptom længere for mig. Jeg tror snarere, at det er et direkte resultat af min /vores børn vokser op, og vores liv bliver mere or mere travlt, kombineret med stærkt ønske om at ramme pause, derefter tilbage knap i livet. Fortiden er kendt, og forudsigeligt, og trøstende på en anden måde. Så hvis du hører mig sukkende, og talende om de "gode ole dage" med gule skolebusser husk, være tålmodig med mig.
