What I See On the Way to the Bus Stop Every Morning

Wooden Bench

Every morning I drive my kids to their bus stop and pass the same scene.

Sitting on a wooden bench in front of a big house are a black man and two blonde kids. The kids are young, maybe 5 or 6 years old. Every morning, I see them smiling or laughing as they sit close together and talk. I try to imagine what they are talking about. Maybe he’s reassuring them that they’ll have a great day at school. Maybe the girl is telling a knock knock joke. Maybe the boy recalls the art project he made the day before.

Some mornings, I wonder how they met. Maybe he’s their father. Or cousin. Or an uncle. But never a manny. As someone who’s been mistaken for my own children’s nanny, this option is pushed aside rather quickly. He’s with them every morning, presumably to see them onto their school bus.

In the end the details don’t matter. I don’t really need to know their relationship. I don’t even need to hear what these three human beings are saying to each other.

What matters most is that in the few seconds I drive past them each day,  I can see the deep love they have for each other.

That’s better than any story I can make up about them.

This kind of love is what I hope strangers see when they glance upon my husband and our children.


  1. Bicultural Mama September 18, 2015
  2. Stacey September 23, 2015