When my oldest son was 5, he started kindergarten. At the time, I was still teaching in the same building. We would load up in the car and off we’d go. I would walk up the steps with him and send him on his way after the first few weeks of getting used to school. At the end of the day, I’d be greeted at my classroom with a big hug, followed by a report of what went on in kindergarten. Wide-eyed, eager and innocent, he was.

A couple of years later, we were joined by his younger brother. We would play the radio and laugh at some silly songs on the way to school. We would make up our own songs and try to beat all the other teachers to the best parking spot.

By the time their sister joined them, oldest brother had moved to another building. We would drop him off and proceed on to the “little school.” Again, we made up songs and provided the same frivolity for the benefit of sister, although she, being reserved wasn’t quite as entertained. Or at least she didn’t show it.

As I write this, I have wished sister a good day and sent her down the hallway. We are both at the big school, now.  She is in seventh grade. I have started thinking she is her mother if I catch a glimpse of her in my peripheral. Growing up. She is still reserved and our rides to school consist of me trying to get a smile out of her. I know she finds my antics a bit tiring, but every now and then I get a smile or even a laugh. Getting a laugh out of her is a personal victory for me and it makes my day even better.

Baby sister goes to preschool this year, and we aren’t quite sure yet what travel arrangements will be next year when we start kindergarten. The plan has not been made yet.

But, I still have a good many years of transporting kiddos to school, I’m sure. I don’t know what I would do if I had only myself to bring. I suppose I would arrive a lot earlier. I’ve never thought about it too much.

Last week, my oldest son’s rusty old truck was in the shop, and we found ourselves in a sort of time machine once again.  Here we all were. Big brother in the front seat. Younger brother and sister in the back. We had the same sort of banter we used to have a few years ago.

Younger brother teased sister. It wasn’t quite the same, but it felt just a little like the old days.
I couldn’t help thinking what I was thinking: this might be the last time I bring all three of them to school; together, anyway. Younger brother will drive next year. Oldest brother will be away at college. Sister may get a ride from time to time from her brother, but who knows.  This might be our last collective ride together.

Being overly dramatic is something I try to avoid, but I am by nature an emotional and sensitive sort. I didn’t shed a tear, but I decided to voice my feelings.“Hey you guys, this may be the last time we ride to school together. You know, the four of us, I mean.”

The boys both grunted “yea.” Sister didn’t crack a smile and gave a half-hearted shoulder shrug. Whether they were waxing nostalgic or not, I could not detect. Our last ride seemed to be something that did not bother them.

As with many events in my life, I try to provide humor. “Take care. Don’t forget to write,” I said as the boys got out of the car. “Yea.” Again, no emotion. Even my half-hearted attempt to avoid getting emotional did not work with them. “We will miss you,” I added before the door of the car slammed shut.

I glanced back at reserved daughter in the back seat as we made our way to the middle school. “Do you think we will ever see them again?” I continued to try and mask the melancholy.

“Hopefully,” she offered.   Then I saw her smile. I even think I detected a little “humph” of a laugh.

Victory!