For the past eight years, Miss Pam has been picking at least one of the kids up and driving them to kindergarten and first grade and then returning them safely home at the end of the day.
That’s like one thousand four hundred forty days.
For the last one thousand four hundred forty school days Miss Pam has been a part of our lives.
She drove a nervous Number 3 to his first day of kindergarten.
She drove an excited Number 4 to her first day of kindergarten.
She drove a ridiculously cute Number 5 to her first day of kindergarten.
When Number 6 was scared to ride the bus in a seat by himself because Number 5 was sitting with someone else and he was inconsolable the night before, Miss Pam took care of that sh*t the next day.
And she sent me a picture to reassure me that everything was okay.
And Miss Pam drove are VERY HAPPY Number 7 who had watched all her siblings get on the bus for four years and COULDN’T WAIT TO GO TO SCHOOL to her first day of kindergarten.
And today when she dropped Number 7 off from the last day of school, Miss Pam stopped at our driveway for the very last time.
I usually cry on the kids’ first day of school.
But today I cried on the last day.
Because there are bus drivers.
And then there is Miss Pam.
Miss Pam opens the door every morning and greets every kid with a big smile and a “Hello, Muffin!”
Each child on that bus is one of Miss Pam’s kids. She loves them all as if she gave birth to them.
When the Sandy Hook shootings happened just a few miles away from our house in 2014 and Miss Pam pulled up to the driveway, opened her door and delivered an oblivious Number 4 — who was in first grade and the same age as the kids who had been killed earlier that day — to me, standing and sobbing in the driveway, she held her shit together.
Because she’s a strong, fierce woman.
She’d cut a bitch if it meant protecting your kid. But if your kid needed a hug, she’d be right there with that.
And she’d give you one if you needed it, too.
For one thousand four hundred forty days, my kids rode the bus with the best.
And now that Miss Pam won’t be stopping at our driveway anymore, there will be a little hole in our lives.
But there will also always be a place for her in our hearts.
Just as Miss Pam lets you know your kids are a part of her family every morning when they step foot on her bus, I wanna let Miss Pam know that she will always be a part of our family, too.
WE LOVE YOU MISS PAM!