It’s 6:25 a.m., and the world is still wearing its nighttime colors. Out here on the porch, the air is that classic Gulf Coast mix—heavy, cool, and so thick with moisture you can almost feel it settling on your skin. At a crisp 57°, it’s the kind of morning that makes you want to linger in the dark, but the headlights passing on the road have other plans. They’re glowing with soft halos in the damp air, a quiet reminder that the rest of the world is already moving.
This is the heartbeat of my weekday life: the Bus Stop Stakeout.
The Two-Hundred-Foot Sprint
The morning anxiety is a very specific flavor. It’s the mental math of “door-to-driveway.” We don’t just step out to the curb here; it’s a good couple hundred feet from the front door to the road.
One grandkid was out and ready, but the second? Still a no-show. We were down to the wire, watching the road, praying the bus wasn’t running early. Then, like a scene from a low-stakes action movie, the second one emerged just as the big yellow bus pulled up.
A little bit of waiting on the bus driver’s part, a lot of hustle on theirs, and somehow, they both made it on. Crisis averted. Now, the silence returns to the porch—but only for a heartbeat.
From School Buses to Soggy Diapers
The quiet “me time” ended the second I stepped back inside. There’s nothing quite like a six-month-old to jumpstart your internal engine.
Sure enough, little Christian was already awake and jabbering away in his room, providing his own morning soundtrack. The transition from the cool, misty porch to the reality of a soggy diaper change and a pending bottle happens fast. Christian is currently in the middle of his morning “freshening up” and will be back in my arms for breakfast duty any second now.
The coffee is cold, the baby is loud, and the house is officially in full swing. This Muse has officially mused its last for the morning.
I’ll catch y’all on the other side.
