As I walked to work that first morning I couldn't help but think of my childhood, as I often do apparently. My sisters and I used to wait at a bus stop on the middle of a hill, a very long winding hill. This was 'The West Side Road' and we were the only stop on that side of Whistler, so us 3 small children stood at the stop every school day, alone, except for the times we had bear cubs wander by and the one time we saw a pair of glowing animal eyes hiding behind a tree which we decided was a cougar stalking us. No big deal.
Anyway, when it snowed, as it did in Whistler, the school bus had trouble making it up the hill, so to get a head start the school asked our parents if it was okay for us to walk to a pre decided stop at the bottom of the hill so the bus could get a 'head start'.
The decided new stop was across the street from the 'yellow train track sign', and yes, that is the technical term. Often times this second stop was used when my sisters and I finally stopped fighting long enough to ask : "is it icy enough that we have to walk down?" We'd test the it(can you slide on the road?) and come to a group committee decision. Then we'd trot down the hill to the second stop.
Down the road with no sidewalk, covered in snow, with a steep cliff on the other side. So safe.
Once we got to the stop we'd wait hours. Hours I'm telling you. (It probably wasn't hours, it just felt like that because of how much we got done)
There was so much snow that we'd build forts, snowmen, snow thrones, stomp down an area large enough to make an actual "stop". Things got really exciting if the snowplow came along, cause then we had to dive out of the way so we wouldn't, you know, die.
Now seems like a good time to tell you that I was really good at annoying people as a small child. I took pride in how good I was at it actually.
So the time I pissed Shannon off enough that she punched me in the nose was especially memorable because there was snow. A lot of it.
And my nose bleeds.
As soon as she punched me (it doesn't matter why, I can't remember anyhow) my nose exploded and Shannon realized what she had done and she came running at me to help. Except I was sure she was going to punch me again so instincts told me to duck and run, leaving a blood trail with Shannon chasing after me.
By the time our bus pulled up with our driver Klaus behind the wheel it looked like a scene out of Gangs of New York. There was blood all over the snow, all over Shannon, I was hysterical.
Klaus brought the bus to a screeching halt with a horrified look on his face, sure he was witnessing a massacre, as Shannon got on and tried to explain the situation. Klaus searched around for something useful, found some paper towel. He tore some off, paused to take a look at my nose and then just handed me the entire roll.
I don't remember the rest of the bus ride or the day at school but I do know that when my sisters and I bring this story up, we have a good laugh over it. No one remembers why I was punched, but we all agree I deserved it. We drove past our old bus stop a couple of summers ago on a mini nostalgia trip. There was no snow, but the trees had grown,(shocking!) and the spot across the street from the train track sign was still there as we slowed down to look at our 'ghosts' playing in the snow.
At the bus stop, minus the snow. My first day of kindergarten.
