An Evening of Paperwork

Two sets of heavy boots on the fence rail. Two wide bottoms seated on the bumper of the patrol car.

“Coroner’ll be here soon.”

“Yump” he nods, then spits in the dirt.

Patrolman’s thinking of the paperwork ahead with dread. Farmer’s wishing he was inside watching that show. Neither is much worried about the bones lying twenty feet yonder. Both are keenly aware that the sun is getting near to settin.’

Ain’t the way of things here; to wonder who, or how, or to look into the bones or bushes. The task here is to simply wait for others to come do their jobs. Headlights and a dust cloud bring them to their feet.

“You know where I’ll be?” Farmer calls, as he heads back into his house.

“Yes’sir.” Patrolman leans against his cruiser with his hand on his gear belt. His other hand reaches up and tips his hat off, bangs the dust out of it, and replaces it. The crew pulls up and piles out.

He signs their bits of paper and points them in the right direction and spits again.

“Harvester came over it this morning. I’ve been ever here since.” His words send them into a beehive of activity.

He pauses to muse over the existence of a person, now reduced to a spread of bones in a field.

The lives people led before demise is contrary and wrought. He heads for his car and an evening of paperwork.

Kindness in Action

A Dallas man searches the streets for unsheltered people, hoping to drive them to shelters on the coldest nights.

He’s been cold, hungry, and sleeping rough himself. This article shares how he now does what he can to help keep some of the most vulnerable in our society alive when everyone else looks the other way. Or looks right through them.

Thank you, B.B. for seeing them as people, and for doing what you can to help them stay warm and alive.