Camping For a Year with a Three Year Old

 I just thought of this, the many times I ran with my son as I see a bus slowly ride by my home now.  Photo by  Yelena Odintsova  from  Pexels The Bus Many times I ran on a bus Oh it was so free No one knew where I was going Just me, him, and the air The possibilities that were coming to me A new place  a new time New scenery  for me and my child. hope, it always did bring A new place to live A new store to shop at A new path of a plan to escape  New long roads to walk  Where we didn't know  where it would end Until it would come to face us again If I were on that bus Where would I go As it moves slowly by me now It gives me time to Think of another place And time Where would I be A different place than here A place with more freedom To move, outside of the confinements I"m in Perhaps a place where my mind could freely wander, be curious Wonder what might  be going on out there What might include me The excitement rises To these thoughts I know how far buses travel To a new wo