The bus, Number 58 if my old memory serves me correctly, regularly picked up and dropped off the children of Florence Elementary School who lived in our area. The children in the third house on the left of the then-unnamed road in Star, Mississippi, were right there at the end of their gravel driveway every morning, lined up and ready to board the bus. There were four of us, each separated by one year in age from the next.

To the outside eye, this may have seemed the most normal sight in the world. Just kids waiting on the bus. Just like all the other kids on Bus 58. But the world probably didn’t notice the lines in the gravel. . . .

The four of u...

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