BUS STOP...

A medium cup of french vanilla, light and sweet coffee has always been my breakfast every morning. But today it seemed totally different. I could barely taste the sweetness at all. It was only yersturday that i found out Jeremy, my only son died. I felt like it was all a dream, it was the phone call of my nightmares. Why did this happen to him, he was only 23, his life was just begining, and mine feels like its at its end. Seven years i have been coming to this same bus stop, 173 towards Bloomfiled. Never did i notice the elk tree, with its roots stretching far beneathe the bus stop cubicle. It was a tree of life, growing and growning. My son should be growing as we speak, but instead is dead.