School Bus

I’m making the turn off McKenzie up Blenkinsopp towards the trailhead at Mount Doug when I see the Kids Klub bus. Its March break and Rio is in all-day care with his normal after school program. As I complete the turn, I’m craning my neck to try and spot his golden head above the windows, and I mutter something like “my little bear is on that bus…”

Fatherhood has done strange things to me.

I experience a wave of sadness so acute it’s like being stabbed with a knife. This is day six in the parenting schedule when the boyz are with their mom and step-father. It’s always at this point when I start to miss them intensely. Good days and bad, this is time apart from my children, and that’s hard. On good days I remember how happy they are, how healthy, how full of love and joy, and how they are adored and loved by Kat, Andy, Jenn and I, along with the cadre of caregivers that surround them every day. On bad days I wish only to fold them into my arms and never let go.

The story bound image of Rio on the bus with his friends, laughing or eating a snack or horsing around is both absolutely lovely, and heartbreaking.

I push aside any sorrow and remember that every parent must at some point let go. This is a normal part of the process of raising a child. Sooner or later they leave. For the huge percentage of society where kids split time between Mom and Dad, this separation comes sooner, both for the parent, and child.

Rio and I have talked about this. He’s told me it’s hard on him. Silas cries for his Mom when he’s with Jenn and I, and misses me when he’s at Kat and Andy’s. But both houses are full of love, and in the end, what the children gain from being in homes with couples and parents who are in love with one another outweighs the feeling of missing one parent or the other.

There is great joy in watching the boyz grow, gain independence, bloom like spring. The school bus passes, and I reach the trail head and spend a few minutes struggling through the emotions of the day before launching up the trail. At first I simply want to turn around, or find a place in the woods to lie down, but after ten minutes or so, I gain my legs, clear my head of emotions, and simply dream about a precious future.