Bus to School

CLARITY: TRANSITION ELEMENTS | Moment One Hundred Forty-Nine

​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​I woke up around five thirty
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​every morning.
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​I heard mom leave
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​for work.
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​Her drive to St. E’s Hospital
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​in Appleton
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​took almost an hour.

​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​We ate breakfast.
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​Our new stepdad
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​might make pancakes.
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​I usually opted for cereal
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​—my wary stomach preferred
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​simple and familiar.

​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​We lined up our backpacks
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​at the end of the driveway.
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​Played in the corn crib
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​or ran around buildings
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​if there was time.

​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​The bus arrived.
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​A friendly face greeted us,
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​Percy Looker—our bus driver.

​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​Younger kids like us
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​sat near the front.
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​Older kids near the back.

​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​I recognized no one
​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​​ ​ ​​​ ​so I was quiet.

ChatGPT imagined moment one hundred forty-nine.