Confession

It was a sunny morning but the air was crisp with the promise of winter on the horizon. I was at the bus stop awaiting my routine ride to elementary school. The frigid air nipped at my nose, my ears, my fingers. I shifted my weight from foot to foot trying to fight off the cold, the dormant crunchy grass was like straw under my feet. I could see the bus round the corner at the top of our road and relief swept over me; soon I would be warm. The neighborhood kids vied for position in line in order to get on the bus first.

Soon the bus was in front of us and the tall doors swung open letting us climb the stairs and find a seat amongst the rows of benches. The doors swung shut and the bus began accelerating. We hadn’t gone far when suddenly a kid shrieked out, “Wait! Stop! Stop!” I looked up alarmed and discovered the shrieking kid was my little brother. He was frantically running up the center isle yelling at the bus driver, “Wait, I forgot something!” Tears started falling down his tender little kindergarten face and his wild eyes darted back and forth wondering if the driver would listen to him.

The bus driver stopped quickly in front of our home and told my little brother in an urgent voice, “Hurry fast.” My little brother didn’t waste one nanosecond. He took off like lightning down the stairs, across the street, and disappeared into the house. Not a few seconds had passed when he came tearing back towards the bus, his legs churning so fast they were almost a blur. Man, one thing was for sure, my little brother could run!

I straightened my back to peer out the window curious to see what in the world could have been so deathly urgent that my baby brother would stop the bus, full of the entire neighborhood, so he could run into our home to grab something he forgot.

In his tiny hand, flapping in the wind as he ran with all his might, his clenched fist held onto the stem of a single fall leaf.

He had found this rather large, perfectly intact and colorful fall leaf and he was dying to show it off in his class show-and-tell.

As my little brother climbed back onto the bus with a look of relief on his face, the streaks left by tears began to dry like a riverbed succumbed to drought. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, and worked his way back to his seat. I felt a pang in my heart because he was so worried about this leaf he would make everyone wait, less he not be able to show his classmates. I was a mean older sister however, and I betrayed my heart by loudly exclaiming, “You went back for a leaf?! I can’t believe you made everyone wait so you could get a leaf!” I turned to the window shaking my head.

I’m embarrassed to admit I was too worried about what the other kids would think of my little brother and by default, me. My insecurities made me want to make him feel dumb before they did. He responded with another wipe of his nose on his sleeve and a shrug of the shoulders as he sat down in his seat.

I’m sorry, little brother, for letting my insecurities overrun my heart that day. It’s one of my many not-so-proud moments.

We all have a list of them, right? The not-so-proud moments?

Until next time,
~Shay