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I love to take long walks every morning, but lately, my feet have taken me much further out of our quiet older neighborhood and closer to a bridge near an overpass of a toll road. Whenever I walk by this area, the noise vibrates my skin as dust stirs and exhaust smells hang heavy in the air. One day, a black lace bra was hanging from a tree. I struggled to reach it with a limb, but I was determined to remove it from the sight of the students I see walking by every day to the bus stop. A makeup bag containing bubblegum pink lip gloss, beige eyeshadow, charcoal, navy, and bronze eye pencils were wholly dumped onto the grass with an empty quart of Fireball cinnamon whiskey a few feet away. There was a beat-up amber leather roper boot in the middle of the street. In March, fake spider and spider webs decorations are adorning a Monte Carlo, a holdover from Halloween. A rusted pole and decrepit cinder blocks hold up the air conditioner. A single violet and yellow-colored baby push walker was parked in the once gravel drive somebody had a small child. I couldn’t help but smile and remember when we had a toddler—thinking of the giggles, wobbles, and sheer sense of glee in pretty much anything. Then I saw a box of size six diapers perched on top of barely navigable broken steps to a home experiencing hardship. I was a wreck. I didn’t want to seem intrusive, but I wanted to help. What business was this of mine? I can’t stop thinking about what I could do. How can I help? I prayed and dropped a gift card to HEB on the front porch enclosed in a lavender card a few days later. I’m overthinking it every morning as I pray and ask Jesus to direct my next steps.