By: Brenda Wilkerson
“Why didn’t anybody bury her?!” Lil Brother G asked as we drove by an older high school-aged girl as she lay lifeless ‘sleeping’ on the concrete culvert beside the long driveway at the end of a silent wooded cul-de-sac. She was lying on her side, arms crossed, her glasses sitting crooked on her face. Assuming she was dead, Lil Brother G was perplexed as to why someone didn’t give her a proper burial. My mind raced for my own answers as the kids stood to see her and began to ask valid questions, “Where did she come from?” — “We’ve never seen anybody here before.” — “Where is her coat?” — and my favorite, “Why didn’t anybody bury her?”
I slowed down, stopped, pulled my brake, and opened the door. Her eyes opened, and she lifted her head and sat up. “Are you okay?” I asked. Nodding her head, she adjusted her glasses and fidgeted with her thin sweater that was not warm enough for the 35° chilly morning. Believing she was okay, we proceeded with our normal route, but I was peppered with so many honest questions about what we just saw. I could only guess as I too was at a total loss. We discussed it as long as the kids asked questions, and I kept it as positive as I knew how knowing some precious tender hearts on board would worry all day about this chilly girl. Lord, you know her situation inside and out. I pray for her and my bus babies as they begin to witness and process the difficult world around them. Help us always navigate with Your love when we don’t have all the answers. Lead and guide us to love those hurting during this winter season. In Your name, Amen.
As I wrapped up my very first semester, I can’t help but reminisce. There were so many things that became part of my daily bus route that I could depend on like clockwork. For example, at my very first stop, all six kids would be lined up single file by the parents and ready to load, pronto! And the momma that would always kneel with baby sister on her hip, take her kindergarten son by the shoulder, look him dead in his eyes, and speak momma truth to his soul before he boarded. Then there was one stop that affected me differently…the Coffee Stop! Whenever I stopped for Lil G, his dad would always have a coffee cup in his hand. Always. Like every single morning. I found myself dreaming about what flavor it was. Was it just plain black? Frothed with 2% milk? Popped out of a Keurig? Were the handsome deep brown beans ground fresh just moments before it was fragrantly embraced by the awaiting empty coffee cup? Were the delectable mahogany granules poured over ever so slowly with hot water at the perfect temperature for the comforting taste and smell of emboldened flavor? What flavor was it? Amaretto? Salted Caramel? Mocha? Ackkkk!
So, every day when I turned on that street, my brain would trick me into thinking I could smell that lovely fragrant coffee bean juice even before I rounded the corner to the ‘Coffee Stop’ driveway. It sounds crazy, but I will miss my 6:48 a.m. daily dreamy coffee break!
~Brenda
By: Brenda Wilkerson
January 3, 2025
