All I could see where little black PF Flyers between the road and the bottom of the big yellow bus. Those little feet stood on the tip-tip-tippy-toe trying to reach the bottom step. Short legs don’t go very far, ya know.
All I could see standing on the sidewalk were parents, holding younger siblings, tissues, Dad’s with video cameras, Mom’s with cameras; all waving and the biggest grins splitting their faces in half.
All I could see, as the bus drove around the corner was one little muchkin, of the female variety, with her chin in her hand, her forehead pressed to the window and a sad countenance. She was already missing Mommy.
All I could see, was Dad chasing the bus around the corner, waving his hands good-bye, with pride and joy in his little ones who were now old enough for big-boy school.
All I could see, were backpacks nearly the same size as the munchkins, slung over their small shoulders, new shiney shoes, chunky little legs, and scabby knees from too many falls off their skates and bikes.
All I could see, through my own teary eyes, were my own children – 20 years ago.