Charlene and I will be celebrating a wedding anniversary this week, but I have almost begun to wonder if our marriage will survive that long.  

I am a school bus driver. My job is to get the kids back and forth from school safely and on time. I was doing this today, filling in for another driver. I was on a route I had done several times before and knew most of the students’ names. For the most part, parents are not allowed on the bus, but on this particular route, I have three students whose parents come on board to ensure they are safely in their seats. I was at such a stop when I began to fear for the longevity of my marriage to my wife.  

The day started as typical; I picked up my first student, and then there was a long, boring drive to the next family. At this stop, there are three brothers. Brother number one complained about how March Break is over—Brother number two boards the bus 20 seconds later with similar complaints. His mother escorts brother number three, and she already knows the routine for boarding the bus and situating this oldest brother in his assigned seat.  

This mom is a good mom, and her children know this. Her boys are spread out on the bus: one in the back, one in the middle, and the other near the front. When she sees her kids off to school, she does what every loving mother does: “I love you. Give me a kiss,” she says to the child in the rear seat.

She moved to the middle of the bus and said the same thing, “I love you. Give me a kiss.” The boy obliges his mom and repeats I love you back.

Mom is now heading to the front of the bus.

I sit at the front of the bus.

Immediately, thoughts of how other parents have expressed their appreciation for me flood my mind. One notable one is at the forefront of my mind. There was a time when a father loaded his child on the bus, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “I love you.”  

I began to worry about what this mom was about to do.

“I love you. Give me a kiss,” she says to her oldest son. After a moment of affection, she proceeds to the front of the bus.

Remember I am in the front of the bus.  

I am strapped in by the seat belt.

It is a small bus, so escaping quickly, for me, is impossible.

I noticed a bead of sweat on my forehead as the bus shifted from side to side as mom walked to where I was sitting.

What am I going to say?  

What is the correct response to “I love you? Give me a kiss?” 

Oh God, how do I explain this to Charlene?!?!?!?!

This mother of three young boys walked right past me. She climbed down the steps and said, “Goodbye.” 

That was it.

Just a goodbye.

I closed the door and slowly drove away, checking the mirror and seeing this mother waving goodbye to her children.

I didn’t know how to feel.

At first, I was terrified because I had no idea how to explain this to my wife. Secondly, I felt offended that all I got was a goodbye.

Hmm. Now, how am I going to explain this disappointment to my wife?

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