The End of One Day, The Beginning of Another

The last day of summer - the fun summer, that is - has come and gone. Last night I took Sam out to the little ice cream stand at the edge of town, for our traditional Last Day of Summer Vacation ice cream cone.

I'm not sure exactly when this tradition began - maybe four or five, maybe six years ago. I did it that first year as a surprise - and to distract him from the stress of the next day. And I did it the following year for the same reason, and for the same reason in the years after that. Now, when the last day of vacation approaches, Sam reminds me that this day to get ice cream is coming up - and now, I hope, it means the day is a little less about the end of vacation and a little more about getting an ice cream together. 

This year, there’s a little more anxiety than in years past. Sam's going to an entirely new setting for school this next year. For the last five years, he's gone to a school about 15 minutes away from home. This year, he's starting a special needs program in a college that's about 40 minutes away from home. So, along with the new setting, it’s a longer ride. It's stressful for him being so far away from home, and I hope he doesn't know it, but it's stressful for me knowing he’s so much further away, too.

But last night, we had our ice cream, and Helaina came along. 

At bedtime, we reminisced about the summer, all the while, I cast my line to see if he needed to talk about the next day. But it seemed to be best to take it easy, and so bedtime stayed as relaxing as I could make it.

This morning, I stayed around to get Sam some breakfast and to wait with him and make sure there were no problems with the bus. When Sam woke up, he looked pretty disheveled. His anxiety was obvious, just by looking at him. When I asked him how he slept, he said he slept "just fine," which is pretty much what I would expect him to say - no matter how untrue it was. But you could see it in the tightness of his face and in the focus of his eyes. And you could see it in his mussed up hair, and you could see it in his posture -- how he sat on the edge of his seat as he ate, and later, with his jacket and cap on, an hour early, how he sat at the very edge of the couch cushion while we waited for the bus.

I calmly went over the plan for the day, all the while, doing my best impression of not being stressed out myself. Sam sat on the couch and did the same. I hope I was doing a better job of fooling him than he was of fooling me.

The bus company was supposed to have called a couple of days ahead of time to let us know the details of what the transportation situation was. But the call never came in the days leading up. And it never came this morning either. So we waited together for a bus that ultimately never showed up. 

But that was okay because we had a plan. And the plan was that we would sit together and wait. And if the bus wasn’t there ten minutes before I thought we should leave, then we would gather up and wait that last ten minutes in the car together. And if the bus still didn't come, even after that ten minutes, then I would drive him to school. No problem.

So we waited and it never came. But like I said, no problem.

We drove down to the college, keeping the chit chat to a minimum. I told him that, after dropping him off, I would call the school about the bus and get it straightened out, and that even if they said they would pick him up, I would come down to the school anyway - just to be sure.

When we got to the college, I walked him up to where one of the instructors met us. I filled in the teacher about the bus situation and, before leaving, I watched as Sam walked along the side of the building and disappeared into the school.

On the way to work, I called the school and left a message about the bus situation. About an hour later, I got a call from his instructor, letting me know that the bus company called and that they would be picking him up after lunch. She said she told Sam that she would call me and let me know that I didn’t need to bother to come. I let her know that I would be there anyway - watching from a distance, just to make sure.

So, around lunchtime, I left work and made the ninety minute drive back down to the school, where I waited in the distance. After several minutes, I saw Sam and his teacher come out, and look around for the bus that wasn’t there. I watched as they went up some steps to another lot, apparently looking to see if the bus was waiting up there by mistake. So I started to move my car - and then I saw them come back down again. Sam looked over in my direction and then he waved. My cover was blown. 

He recognized me - or rather, as he told me later, he recognized my license plate number- which I guess is good because I don’t even know my license plate number, and should I ever need to know it, I now know who to ask.

I went over and stood with Sam and his teacher, and we waited for the bus that was apparently lost in the maze of parking lots below. As we waited, Sam told me the day, “Wasn’t too bad!”, which, as I may have mentioned previously, is a pretty big compliment. In this case, it wasn’t so much the words themselves, but rather, it was how they were said. You could hear, not only the pleasant surprise in the sound of his voice, but most especially, you could feel his relief. For the most part, at least for now, the stress was gone. And knowing that his stress was gone, meant that, at least for now, it lifted from me as well.

The bus eventually showed up and before he climbed in, I told Sam that I would follow him home. And it surprised me because he thanked me- and it was so simple, but it was so heartfelt.

It was as if I were doing this, just for him.