Last Bus

Of all the kinds of weather, I really don’t like wind. Cold, biting wind, the kind that cuts through your coat and somehow finds its way into your bones, is the worst. I’m a summer person. I like the kind of sultry heat that makes the air feel thick, the kind where you keep a sweat towel draped around your neck all day. I’ll take that over shivering any time.

Lately, though, it’s been nothing but wind and sleet and the kind of cold that makes me question all my life choices. But then this evening, the wind finally settled. The sky put on a show... deep oranges melting into soft purple, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. 

The kind of peace that sneaks up on you, that you don’t realize you needed until it’s there. Man it was good.

This morning was Osamu’s last time riding the kindergarten bus. 

Tomorrow is graduation, and we’ll be driving instead. The whole bus stop crew showed up early, cameras out, exchanging farewell greetings and chatting like always. One boy is moving to Minnesota soon. Hard to imagine him trading this Sendai life for crazy snow and lakes and a whole new world of school and friends. We're gonna for sure keep in touch.

Osamu’s sports uniform is getting passed down to another little boy. Those uniforms cost a pretty penny, so there’s a bit of a black market at the bus stop. Seriously, hundreds of dollars for a set of kindergarten clothes and accessories like hats and stuff. There's a thriving underground economy only parents of little Japanese kids can understand.

And just like that, another chapter is closing. We don’t realize the value of a moment until it becomes a memory. The morning routine, the bus stop chatter, the scramble to make it on time... they all felt so ordinary. But standing there today, watching Osamu climb the bus steps for the last time, it hit me. These little things, the everyday moments, are the ones that stick with you.

Oh and Kenzo was off from school so he came too. It was basically a full-on family outing.