In 1st grade, I hadn’t ridden the bus for very long, a couple months, maybe, because we had just moved to live in a townhome while our house was being built.  Let me mention that where I was, everything looks the same. One very cold, windy and snowy Friday, I was riding the bus home from school.  Everyday, I would sit near the front, on the right side of the bus, next to my friend who got off at the same stop as me.  This particular Friday, however, she wasn’t riding the bus, so my 7 year old self was determined that I could get off at the right stop without help.  I had previously picked out a certain snowpile at my stop to help me remember which stop was mine, and so when the bus was pulling up to the stop, I saw the snowpile, got in line with all the other kids, and got off the bus.  I walked toward the snowpile, turned right, and strode straight ahead. Quickly, however, I realized that I wasn’t in the right place.

Pretty soon, the wind was piercing through my faux fur coat like knives, biting at my nose, and, just to add the cherry on top, it was snowing.  I kept walking, trying to tell myself that I knew where I was going, and that home was just a turn away.  As I went further and further away from where I actually was supposed to be, I started crying. I tried to stop, to hold back the tears, but I couldn’t.  I imagined what everyone who lived in the houses I was passing was thinking.

I thought for sure that I would get kidnapped.  I ran for a little bit, slowed down, then I sat down for a couple seconds, but abruptly stood back up.  The snow was past my ankles, there was ice under it, and I was on a slope.  I fell down a couple times, which only made the tears fall harder. The tears froze to my face, my feet hurt, it was cold, and in conclusion, I was miserable.

As I walked in the middle of the less-used street, I looked to my left, and hoped that I would for some reason, see a car I recognized.  I just saw more white falling, and more houses that I didn't recognize. My nose was so cold I couldn’t feel it, and my tears were frozen on my face.  I finally stopped, fell down on my knees, and cried.  The white snow swirled around me as if I was in a white vortex that was going to keep me forever.  Finally, what seemed like hours later, when the tears had stopped, but I was still sniffling, I looked to my left, and out of sheer luck, I saw a maroon-red car through the gaps between the houses.  I didn't want to believe that it was my mom’s car.  I thought that it was a look-alike that a kidnapper was driving.  However, I slowly shuffled to it anyway. The car pulled up next to me, and there, in the driver’s seat was my mom.  The door opened, and I got inside.  The car was toasty warm, so when I unfroze, I started crying again.

“Are you okay?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I couldn’t get anything else out because I was crying too much.

“I’m so sorry I didn't get here sooner!” her voice was full of concern.  That statement made me feel guilty, and so more tears came.  I couldn’t believe I had that many tears inside of me.

“Let’s go home and warm you up,” she said, her voice comforting my guilty soul.

My mom drove that blessed maroon-red car to our house, which wasn’t very far from where I was, I realized, and then we all got hot chocolate when we were inside.  And I got extra marshmallows.