For several years I have had the opportunity to transport my two grand-girls to school while school was in attendance.  They would bebop out of the house either in shorts and cute little t-shirts or all bundled up in winter coats and gloves.  After getting all buckled in, off we would go.

Kate was the first.

What good times we had!  She still believed in the purity and innocence of the world, so we had awesome rides to school where the trees talked to her as we passed, or the tires would squeal when we made curves, or clouds were all sorts of objects.  There were deer and other animals to be seen and enjoyed.  Big plans were made on these short little trips.

Ava came next.

She grew up faster than Kate, always running in her sister’s footsteps to be like her sister.  But we still had awesome rides to school.  She believed as long as Kate kept quiet, but if her sister stated this was true or this was make-believe, then it was chiseled in stone.

And now they are both in double digits.  My little fairies that used to hide in my closet  (until they were found by a couple of snoopers)  are leaving me notes instead of them leaving my sweet girls notes to ooh and aah over.  The toys that once were dragged out all over the floor haven’t been touched in a while.

They ride the bus home and Kate rides it to school as well.

But I still get to take Ava.  And we still have a great time talking about all kinds of things in that ten-minute ride.  The laughter is still full and fills our guts to bursting until our sides hurt.  She is ten.  I might have one, maybe two years left before she, too, starts riding the bus to school, wanting to socialize with friends.

And that’s okay.  I’m making memory boxes for them.  So they can remember what the trees said and what objects the clouds really were and how the car could squeal when it made a curve and how fairies were real.  Back when they were smaller and younger and believed in the unbelievable.