One Last Ride

I rode the bus to school this morning. It's something I haven't done all year until now since I usually get a ride from Liz, Matthew, or Paul. As I stood in the driveway this morning, I thought back to the moment when I realized that I would never ride the bus to Aylor again. I waited in anticipation that morning, probably excited but nervous too. And so, this morning, I felt a similar pang of sadness. It was my last morning bus ride with Earl (the bus driver of 212) ever. 

On my final morning ride to Sherando on bus 212, I listened to music. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the past few years. The years I spent with Elizabeth, Matthew, and Paul. The bus rides had kept us together for years. The four of us became friends back in fourth grade. Now, eight years have passed, and we're parting ways. Last year, we talked about going to New York during the summer after senior year or in our first years of college. It started off as a joke by Paul, I think. The more I've thought about it though, the more I've wanted us to do it. Just one road trip together. 

The four of us loved riding the bus together. It was rare if one of us was ever alone. I think that's one of the things I'll miss the most. We all got along just fine if one of us wasn't there, but we had much more fun when we were all together. My bus group. It's the longest living group I've ever been a part of. The only group that has withstood summers and time apart. And I don't think it will fade so quickly. We still have one last ride to go on together.