I cannot be the only one…who has watched their child heading
for imminent disaster, opened your mouth to call out a warning to them, but knew
perfectly well that fate’s plan was for them to fall. This was exactly the scenario Sonny Boy and I experienced on
our precarious neighborhood walk to scope out Christmas lights yesterday
afternoon.
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It was one of those moments, the kind of moments that I
imagine an out of body experience would feel like, but instead of seeing myself
from above I could see every possible outcome of Sonny Boy’s upcoming crash in
my mind. The crash was slow, first
tire off the curb, a hand stretched out to stop himself, a leg twisted around
the bike frame, and as the bike finally hit the asphalt his helmeted head lying on the ground. He laid there,
practically in the street, when he started the type of wailing cries that
usually only come from something called a banshee, and then the imagining of the
buckets of blood pouring from his scraped elbow came into the mix.
I picked that kid up, issued a mommy loves you hug, and
practically threw him back on that bike, tears still flowing and all. I knew that after his fall from the bike if I didn't get him back on those two wheels it would be a long time before he felt confident enough to ride it again, so off I sent him pedaling down the sidewalk, while I lingered behind silently thanking the inventors of bike helmets for saving my Sonny Boy's head.
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