I couldn’t help smiling.
“Is that supposed to be Mr. Lawson?”
“Yep.”
“What’s he holding there?”
“The steering wheel, Mom.”
I laughed softly.
“Of course it is.”
Inside, she’d carefully written a message using her neat third-grade handwriting.
Dear Mr. Lawson,
Thank you for helping keep me safe.
I’m sorry that I cried so much.
Love, Ellie.
I read her message twice.
Then I gently indicated the second sentence.
“Sweetheart, you never need to apologize for crying.”
She glanced at her drawing.
“I know.”
“Mr. Lawson understands that you were frightened.”
“I know that, too.”
She reached for a yellow marker.
“Could I add one more thing?”
“Of course.”
She paused to think.
Then she wrote another sentence beneath her signature.
I’m happy you’re my bus driver.
My throat tightened with emotion.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”
Ellie folded the card closed.
Then she climbed onto the couch and settled beside me.
