Spending My 18th Birthday Homeless and at a Bus Stop…

You never forget moments like that.

She stands on the corner of La Cienega.

She gripes her trash bag tight as if, at any moment, someone might run up and steal it. A fuzzy ear peaks from the bottom of the bag, yet she barely notices as she leans halfway into the street to see if the number 40 bus is coming.

She is tired, she’s been up all night, and the sun is doing nothing to soothe the rhythmic pounding of her head. She doesn’t know if it’s due to the relentless heat or the missed meals she tried to compensate for with stashing peppermints from the olive garden tables she visits, browsing the menu as if preparing to order a meal.

No bus in sight, she sighs, one of those whirlwinds exhales that swirl around your heart, leaving your lungs not knowing the difference from inhaling. She waits on a bus, knowing her wallet is empty, but hoping the bus driver is generous enough to let her get on for free.

A car slows, a man who looks three times her age asks her if she needs a ride, and she shivers. Looking past the man and placing earphones into her ears, she looks to the left as if searching for someone who might pick her up.

Despite her phone having died days ago, she taps her foot as if she is listening to music. The car drives off fast but not before throwing an explicit word or two her way.

She stands up and tries to hide behind the bus stop while still keeping her eyes out for the bus.

If you were to walk past her, you might give her the side-eye and think she looked mighty suspicious.

Yet, what you don’t know is… That it’s her 18th birthday.

She turned 18 and received a single trash bag for her clothes and teddy bears she has been collecting from court since she entered foster care. She is alone, and her gift is the trash bags she uses as luggage.

Her only safety net as she prepares for adulthood is the teddy bears she carries in her trash bag. And her home is in her heart because she has just turned homeless on her 18th birthday.

After all, the system determined that she was ready for the world. As she peeks for her bus, she wonders how they expect her to thrive when she can’t even afford bus fare. Another car slows, and she wonders how she will make it to a destination she doesn’t even have directions in the world for.

She goes back to this bus stop years later. Things have changed at the number 40 bus stop. No longer are the wooden bus benches that left splinters on her legs from the worn wood. Metal frames and an awning cover have replaced the wooden seats.

She is more confident and assured of herself now. Her trash bag filled with teddy bears is long gone, and she now grips her work bag.

She no longer stands at the edge of the curb searching for the bus but instead relaxes on the bus bench as she reads, The Coldest Winter Ever by Sistah Souljah. No, this is not the philosophical book of business or productivity.

Instead, it’s a book that draws her in and reminds her what to avoid. Although she has not lived the life of Winter, she has lived a life of traveling with trash bags as her luggage in foster care and learning life lessons without a guide.

She glances up every so often to take a look around. She smells the fried fish wafting from the restaurant across the street. She considers it and smiles.

This time she not only has money for a bus fare, but she has money for a whole fish combo meal and a drink. This warms her heart, and she remembers the times she couldn’t even afford the small condiments.

A car once again slows down as she sits at the bus stop. She looks over this time with confidence and shakes her head no. The man in the car continues to push for conversation.

She has been here before.

It is the same place that so many women who stand at bus stops face, being pushed, objectified, confined when they only want to get on the bus.

Experience has taught her to search for help and not be afraid to ask for support. She looks over and sees an older woman sitting on the next bench. She walks over and asks if she can sit next to her till the car passes.

The woman looks at the man in the car, shakes her hand, and says, of course. She immediately feels relieved and sighs, a deep from her heart overflowing from her soul. Instant peace proceeds and she feels safe at this moment.

Community, village, and support, she reminds herself, “you find it where you can.”

The man slowly drives away as she has a genuine conversation about Sistah Souljah’s book with the kind lady at the bus stop. Time passes quickly, and eventually, the bus pulls up. She thanks the woman for her support.

The woman responds, “no-worry girl, I have been through being harassed at a bus stop too.”

They part ways as they enter the bus, and she settles into a seat near the middle and begins once again to read. A few stops pass, and she looks up to see a woman standing in the front of the bus holding a child’s hand. She hears the women ask the Metro bus driver for a free (courtesy) ride.

The driver responds no quickly and pushes for her to pay or step off his bus.

She remembers the moments like these with her mother being in this same position with her. And her being in the same position as navigating the bus system in after foster care. She quickly reaches in her purse and moves to the front of the bus.

She smiles at the woman and the child. She drops in the fare and hands the mom a $20. She doesn’t have much, but she always makes sure she has something for moments when she sees a need.

The woman hugs her, and the child gives her a large smile. She tells the woman she has been here too, so no worries at all.

She has been here, trash bag, teddy bear, no money. Saying that her childhood was hard would be an understatement to describe the difficulty of navigating poverty and foster care.

My life looks different now. I now have a car and a child of my own. I am married and graduated and working on writing to change the world to change the story.

I don’t have all the answers, but I always try to share my knowledge, be resourceful, and find a kind, healthy village when I can. And when I pass by bus stops, I keep an eye out for the person who may need me to be that village.

Take the time to see the family at the grocery store, unable to pay the full bill, or the woman at the bus stop, who may need the extra support. One day, one moment, one instance, we can support people who have been where we were and help them get to where they strive to be.

Appreciating you tons, Shari

P.S. You are cordially invited to work with me as your Personal Growth Coach here.