This morning, I drive across town to drop my oldest daughter, who normally takes the bus, off at high school. As we move through traffic in the crisp autumn air, we note the rising sun turning the tips of the trees golden. We note all the morning activity: crossing guards gesturing with authoritative hands, school bus drivers using their stop sign to halt drivers so small children can board their bus to elementary school, families hauling out garbage cans to the curb, morning joggers puffing out soft clouds of frozen breath, students walking briskly about with their backpacks secured, and construction workers bringing their machines to life.
“It’s just like Richard Scarry’s Busytown,” I laugh. “Do you remember Busytown?”
I find myself smiling at all the good citizens of our town. Here we are, working together, obeying traffic laws, living out our lives with the kind of togetherness that waits patiently as the smallest child boards his school bus for what must be kindergarten. It’s a good town. It’s a good life.