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  • Writer's pictureCasey Wythacay

By Bus, By Van, and By Foot

Updated: Jul 7, 2021


Normally the Thomas’s covered before and after school coverage. There was even conveniently a school bus stop right on their corner. For a few weeks though, my family was in a tight spot. We were in a time of not talking to or about the Thomas’s which meant no childcare. My mom reached out to our classmates’ parents to ask if we could be dropped off before her 7am shift. After a generous soul agreed, the haggling began of how many extra siblings they would be willing to watch. What was a few more, my mother would ration? She was a skilled negotiator, but still we were divided. No one wanted the responsibility of all of us.


My sister and I didn’t have a sitter for a bit. Instead, we piled in the van early in the morning and join mom on her drop off routine. Sleepily, we followed close behind her through the employee entrance of the hotel where my mother worked. She slid her timecard into a snitch-of-a-clock that stamped the time my mom arrived.


The lobby had groups of chairs and couches. If open, my sister and I would settle into the long couch in front of the television. It was a business hotel, so if real guests were around the TV would play the news stations. Sometimes sports highlights. But when no one was in the lobby, my sister and I changed it to the PBS channel. The TV only had a few stations, most of them boring, but if we were lucky, we’d watch Arthur while the kitchen staff set up the breakfast buffet.


It was hard to concentrate when the smells from the chafing dishes of sausages and breakfast potatoes teased our grumbling tummies. I rarely ate much breakfast. It made my nausea hard to manage and even a few bites of toast had the potential to cause my poor stomach to feel crushed in a vice. I would still make a small plate at the hotel though. I also grabbed an unopened yogurt I’d pack in my book bag to go along with my lunch. Free food is free food.


I drank my weight in juice though. The juice dispenser was very cool with push buttons, and I used any excuse to walk through the lobby for another refill. Commercial? I’ll go grab juice. An onion snuck in with the potato bite? Wash that vile substance away with a sophisticated half cran/half apple. Third time seeing the weather forecast? Juice. Just not orange; that acidic pulp-laden juice of lies.


All this juice meant frequent trips to the hotel lobby bathroom. It was fancy. There was a lotion dispenser next to the soap at the sink and no one ever stole it.


At the arranged time, my mom would give the signal. We would put our dirty plates in the bins waiting their turn to go through the “dishes carwash”. She’d meet us back at the clock, punch out and drive us to our school in time for roll call.


Our school was very close geographically, but 30-minute lunch breaks went fast if the lights were all red. We held our bookbags tight, ready to jump out the sliding van door as soon as we made it to the drop off zone. Under no circumstance could we forget a folder or struggle with the seatbelt because that meant my mother would be late getting back from her lunch break and could lose her job. Mom was already sacrificing because taking her lunch break so early in her shift to drop us off at school meant she would not be able to eat until she got off. I thought of her when I was in my elementary school cafeteria. I felt guilty that I had the chance to eat a hot school lunch AND the bonus yogurt while my mother was hungry.


Soon, a friend’s Dad agreed to wake up early so my sister and I could stay before and after school. He put on the movie IT that we watched in short installments each morning. We’d eat and head to school by foot. This friend lived in walking distance, and it was a lot of fun to arrive to school with a group of neighborhood kids. We always made sure to leave in plenty of time.


I remember noticing my heartbeat wasn’t as loud or as fast when I stood to say the Pledge of Allegiance. It was the longest my fingernails ever grew as a child. Every morning we spent at my friends’ house was a morning I didn’t have to worry about the Thomas’s. And a day my mother got to eat during her lunch break. Our mornings were peaceful and we were less on edge.


Even though we had shortly before been watching a movie about a killer clown.



 

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