The bus was twenty minutes late.
I return from the hub-bub of excited parents and new kindergardeners, the din of fall meetings after summer vacations.
I enter the house, silent and still with no boys to bounce about.
I am still haunted by the words he wrote in his notebook to his teachers:
I have bad energy today I'm sorry
Why am I the one with butterflies in my stomach on the first day of school?
Post Script: Joey is on his beloved same bus with the driver he's had since he was 2. He was really happy to see her, and to see something familiar to start school.