My name is Sheryl Cain and I ride bus # 277

As the closest in age to Sheryl, I have always felt a momish responsibility for her. Although she and I did not attend junior high or high school together, we did attend Brooks Hill together for two years. I was in 4th grade when she started Kindergarten. I distinctly remember getting her ready for school in the morning when she started first grade (she went to afternoon kindergarten so I was gone before she left for school). I would get her dressed, brush her hair and pack her lunch. For some reason I didn't mind doing this every morning. It was my chance to be the big sister and take care of someone for once. The story I'm about to share takes place on the very first day of school. I had started 4th grade, Sheryl had started Kindergarten.

The first day of school was over. Phew! The last thing I needed to do was make sure Sheryl got on the bus and then we could finally go home. Our bus was called over the loud speaker in the school, so I left my classroom and hopped on bus # 277. I picked a seat in the middle so Sheryl would see me relatively easily (sitting in the front was out of the question, I mean I wasn't a total nerd). A few minutes passed by and Sheryl had not come on the bus yet. No big deal, her classroom was on the other side of the school so I anticipated it would take her longer than me to get to the bus. A few more minutes passed and no Sheryl. Everything is fine. She just doesn't know the line-up the buses. She probably passed our bus by accident. 10 minutes had passed. I was still alone in my seat with no sign of Sheryl. My heart started pounding, my hands started sweating, the bus started up preparing to leave the loop. It was time to take action.

I leaped out of my seat and ran off the bus, telling the driver to wait for my sister and I. I scanned the sidewalk looking for Sheryl. There were too many kids and teachers. Next step, find a grown-up. The first adult to catch my eye was Mrs. Grouse (I'm not sure if I spelled her last name correctly) the principal. I ran to her and frantically explained the issue as tears began to well up in my eyes. You see at that age, thinking clearly in such a stressful situation was nearly impossible. I assumed that if Sheryl took the wrong bus home, I would never see her again. The driver would most certainly kidnap her and keep her prisoner with no chance of escape. Sheryl would be destined to roam the streets of Fairport forever with only the clanging of seat-belts to keep her company. Later on in life, I would have realized that the driver would have brought Sheryl to the bus garage right across from our neighborhood, contacted mom and Sheryl would be picked up.

When I finished my story, the principal hollered on her walkie-talkie for all buses to wait. She contacted Mrs. Nelson, Sheryl's kindergarten teacher, and the search began. It took about two minutes. Mrs. Nelson had a list of the buses her students rode. We found the bus Sheryl had boarded. There she was talking and giggling to a new friend she had made that day. Mrs. Nelson brought her off the bus and turned her over to my custody. I looked on her backpack to read her card that listed her bus. Of course it was WRONG! I asked if she had noticed that I wasn't on that bus. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I was talking to my friend". We quickly got back on the correct bus and made our journey home.

Sheryl may not remember this event but I certainly do. Clearly I was far more scared and worried than she during the situation. I have always felt a duty/desire to protect her and prepare her for life. She is no longer a little girl, she hasn't been for some time. However, that won't dissuade me from being the second mom. Happy Birthday Shirld!