The afternoon was cold, so I closed the window by my seat. At the time, this trip seemed insignificant, sitting in a Greyhound bus, bound for Little Rock. The bus had few passengers, which allowed me to have a seat by the window and an empty seat for my few belongs. We traveled along the precursor of what would become I-40, but today that road was just two-lane blacktop. I recall looking out the window and pondering what future days would bring to my world. The month was January, Thursday the 28th, as I recall. The diesel engine’s drone was all I could hear as the miles went by. Alone is how I felt, immeasurably alone and lost.

The bus was transporting me from Arkansas Polytechnic College (now called Arkansas Tech University), where I had just finished my first semester, taking me to the military recruiting station in Little Rock where, in the morning, I would be enlisting. Although I did not know it, that night would be my last night ever to sleep in my parents’ house.

Leaving college had been an emotional failure for me, something that had seemed impossible a year prior. Yet, here I was, leaving on a bus because I had failed that first semester. Failed it. FAILED. I, who had been an A student and widely respected by my teachers since elementary school, had failed. My counselor said that I could start over, but I couldn’t accept that strategy; leaving seemed my only recourse. And now, here I sat, confused and out of my depth. Why, why did this happen to me?

My parents had always commented that I would go to college after high school. That was never questioned. In hindsight, what was never discussed was why? And in what area of interest? And in what careers that might challenge me? Since I sometimes sang in the church choir, Mom suggested I major in music as a singer. It was the only suggestion and I innocently accepted it. Mom had always supported me, and was always there for me. High school had been a mess, what with the closing of schools in Little Rock at the time, and she had worked to ensure that I was able to finish my education. So, when I faced another education issue, it was only natural to listen to her.

Was it a bad idea? It was a horrible idea. But there was more. I cannot lay my problem to her. My difficulty was just being lost in what I was doing. As the bus rumbled on, l replayed many of the experiences that had happened. One, was my knowledge that I was a poor singer. That’s right; I could not stay in tune with the music. Beyond that, music theory was far beyond my grasp, or my interest. It was a topic that would never be part of my world, yet it was dominating my learning endeavor. There was also the social life. My time at college had been my first where there were no friends from prior schooling. Growing up, I never realized how dependent I had been on being part of a social group. I was indeed alone and did not adjust well to that. My failure was in not seeking an adult to speak to about what seemed insurmountable at my young age. Looking back, everything that had troubled me had simple solutions, but were unknown to me. Regardless, this was a huge failure in my young life, and memories are still there; failing to do what so many do so easily is not a pleasant weight to bear.

Darkness had fallen by the time the bus arrived in Little Rock. Although I was glad to get to my hometown, I was nervous about that first contact with my parents after my departure from college. Conversation during dinner was stressful and stilted, as my parents were not sure how to approach my situation. This was not unusual, as we had been drifting slowly apart since the death of my older brother, John, a few years earlier. His death had created a wall that I could not breach and, at my young age, didn’t realize existed. Their love for me was never in doubt, but my brother’s death, and my still coping with being a teenager, had created a vacuum in our lives. That dinner would be our last for several years, and was the last at which the advice I needed was possible. The next morning was my military induction, and my life was no longer in my control.

To look back decades later, what I could not have projected while bouncing around in that bus was that it would be many years before I eventually found myself and focused on my life. I would eventually finish college, and my working career was a success by any measure, but there will always be that gap of bridging childhood to adulthood on my own that I missed. What I did not realize when I began writing this blog entry was what insight it would give me — which it did.

The teenage years can be frustrating to a parent, dealing with the emotional ups and downs of a teenager. There are assumptions made, yet never verified. The topic of college was easy for acceptance, but there was never an in-depth, heart-to-heart, discussion on the purpose, some options, and what my future might bring. Parents may assume the child knows this, but most do not. My outward presentation was of confidence and self-reliance, but that was only within the bubble of childhood; the outer world was an unknown. The transition from the late teens to the early twenties is one of the steepest emotional cliffs to conquer, and too often the one in which the child survives alone.