School Called Police On Biker Whom My Daughter Was Feeding Her Lunch Every Day

“She gave me that the first day,” Thomas said. “Then she asked if I had lunch. I said no. She handed me her sandwich. Said I needed it more than her because I was sad and hungry people can’t stop being sad.”

He laughed through his tears. “I tried to say no. Tried to tell her to keep it. But she put it in my hands and ran inside before I could give it back.”

“The next morning, I came back. Just to thank her. Just to tell her she didn’t need to give me anything. But she was waiting for me. Had another lunch. Another drawing.”

Lily squeezed his arm. “I packed extra, Mommy. I took food from the pantry so Mr. Thomas could eat too. I’m sorry I didn’t ask.”Groceries

“Every day for three weeks,” Thomas said. “She’d bring me food and drawings and little presents. And I’d give her stories. Stories about Emma. About what Emma was like. What she loved. What she dreamed about.”

“Emma wanted to be a veterinarian,” Lily said seriously. “She loved horses. Her favorite color was purple. She used to sing in the bathtub.”

Thomas nodded. “Lily knows everything about her now. And for twenty minutes every morning, I got to pretend. Got to pretend I was dropping off my granddaughter again. Got to pretend Emma was still here.”

He looked at me. “I know how it looks. Old biker hanging around an elementary school. Talking to a little girl. I should have known better. Should have introduced myself to you. But I was scared. Scared you’d take this away from me. Scared I’d lose Emma all over again.”

The principal stepped forward. “Mr. Reed, why didn’t you just explain? Why didn’t you come into the school and talk to us?”

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