a rugs life

As Rada and I were waiting for the 85 one afternoon last week, we saw an empty bus go by.

Rada said, “Look! its ‘Out of Service’ “

And it was, but it actually had a purpose. It was driven by a student bus driver. The LED screen on the front and side said ‘INSTRUCTOR BUS’ and there was an earnest-looking man in the driver’s seat, looking to all the world as if he was taking the queen to Buckingham Palace. Beside him another man was standing by, looking on parentally.

Last week, I came down with a stomach bug, not as bad as February’s noro-virus, but a stomach bug nevertheless. 

I became sick after the first day of an educational technology conference. I’d been having a great time, and really wanted to go back for the second day. 

So, on the next day, after dropping Rada off at school, I went home and lay down for 30 minutes, hoping to feel a little better. And I did… just a little. I gathered my belongings, got in the car, and headed for Worcester, an hour drive away, where the conference was being held. Three blocks from my house, something in the dim recesses of my mind told me to make a u-turn and head home. I spent the rest of the day in bed, not feeling deathly sick, but glad to be lying down… and near a bathroom.

That very same day, Rada’s school sent her home early, with a sore throat and cough. They called at 1:00 pm. If I’d been in Worcester, she would have had to wait over an hour. Instead I was there 10 minutes later to take her home.

This is the only time that Rada’s school has ever sent her home sick. Was there a part of my mind that knew this, and knew that I shouldn’t be far away from home that day? Is there a homing instinct between mothers and children that tells us these things?

These just in… 

On the way to the beach.

 In the sun.

In the water. It really was that sparkly, and so will the deep-green waters of New England be in a scant 2 months.

My daughter and I recently returned from a six day vacation in Florida. The weather was gorgeous, the water swimmable, and grapefruits grew wild.

As I looked back on the visit, remembering good times with family and friends, I realized that some of the best moments with my daughter were on the long plane ride home.

The flight had promised to be a grueling one: 3 hours to Chicago, a tricky transfer, and then 2.5 more hours to Boston.

However, surprisingly it turned out to be a very pleasant trip… and one of the reasons was because my daughter and I endured it together. We became a team, making our way through the airport jungle, putting up with noisy passengers on the first leg of the trip, grabbing a quick snack in Chicago, congratulating ourselves on finding a play area to briefly burn-off steam, running for the next plane, and finally, enjoying the extra empty seat on the last leg.

Several times, as we were standing around waiting in line, or smushed into our seats during flight, my daughter and I found ourselves in conversations that we never would have had at home. At home there is almost always something to do, or some distraction to focus on. During the trip, however, it was just her and me. And we got to know each other a bit better, as fellow travellers.

Rada lurked at the front window, anxiously perusing cars and passersby.

Finally he arrived. (photo taken by Nathan’s dad.)