My husband prefers the right lane on the highway.

I have come to respect his ways as they often offer

me something to say. Today, we follow behind a

yellow school bus—an escape from the classroom—

perhaps a field trip or a sporting event. Four or five

young boys wildly wave at us from the emergency

exit window. As I wave back, they jump up and down;

one boy gives me the thumbs up and I return the

gesture. He cheers enthusiastically and points to

himself as if in disbelief that he has been seen. I

imagine delight in their voices as they cheer and

give each other high fives. They grin from ear to

ear and I do the same. I remember the deep tenor

of a truck horn from my youth. Suddenly, they all

take their seats. The bus driver or a chaperone

must have given them orders. As we drive along

behind them, from time to time, one or two turn

around in their seats and look at the large window

to which they can no longer return. We adults

also look back wistfully at our childhood antics.