I smell like a charter bus

That is what I said to Tony when I got home at 10:00, my little man in tow. That cloaking smell of velvety rubber with a hint of metallic was infused into my clothes and had seeped into my son's hair.

He asked me how it went, with his head cocked to the side expecting the worst.

I paused for a moment while my brain quickly reflected on the day we spent at the Pacific Science Center. I found several memories amassed in my mind. There was the immediate realization, as the bus moved down the road, that this would be a trip filled with nausea. There was the severe winds that added to the bob and weave of the bus. There was the repetitive thought that somehow the unthinkable would happen and I would have robbed Tony of a son and missed my daughter's life unfold because I selfishly wanted a piece of my family on this trip. There was the onslaught of carbs and the fact that I seem to be in a bubble that repels Diet Pepsi because none could be found. There was the disappointment that the facility cancelled part of the exhibit because of a memorial service. There was the fact that they moved our lunch to a cramped, untidy staff room. There was the ever-present fear that one of my 38 precious teen charges may turn up missing, injured or on some graffiti artist most wanted list (we are dealing with un-developed frontal lobes here). There was the chill still in my bones from waiting with a very respectful and thoughtful student whose parents just happen to be an hour late. Oh and there was the before mentioned permeating soft stench of the bus.

But then I felt the squeeze of Aidan's arm around my middle as he is want to do lately. I remembered how after holding the door open for him as we entered the house he looked at me and said, "Thank you Mom. Thank you for taking me on this trip."

"It was wonderful." was my reply.