The rain is coming down so fast and furious that the windshield wipers can’t keep up.
The heater hasn’t had time to warm the car or clear the windows.
It’s almost 7 am which means the bus will arrive anytime.
And as much as I want to get back to my warm bed, I have a job to do, and that’s to keep an eye open for the bus.
As I sit in the drivers seat staring straight ahead waiting for lights to appear in my peripheral vision, my oldest daughter talks to me.
We’re only together for a few minutes, but I’ve learned more about my daughter before 7 am than any other time of the day. Maybe she’s more open and talkative in the morning. Or maybe I’m a better listener when I’m tired.
When I see the bus lights, I hit the button which opens the sliding doors to the van. My daughter leans over just enough so I can kiss her on the forehead before she grabs her backpack and cello and disappears into the dark morning air.
Occasionally I’ve taken this time with my daughter for granted.
But not today.