It’s a lesson of life
that bad stuff can happen even when you’re doing the right thing.
Today my two kids and
I were crossing the road when the ‘green man’ buzzed, but a driver in a car saw
the red light and I don’t know what she was thinking, or not thinking, but she
decided to try and drive round the corner. Just as my 6-year-old skipped in
front of her car. Let me say now that Ruby is fine, she wasn’t hit. But it
could so easily have been a different story I’m typing tonight. As it is, the
story that unfolded this afternoon has been on re-play through my head ever
since (must be clocking up 9 hours by now!).
I did one thing wrong
today – one thing – I let go of my kid’s hand and let her run ahead of me as we
crossed the road. It’s a minor thing and on any given day hundreds of people do
it. But in our family, the rules are you hold hands crossing the road, and you
don’t run on the road. In the world of traffic, you don’t go when the lights in
front of you are red and pedestrians are on the crossing. But today I let Ruby
run ahead, without holding my hand (I had Leah on my hip and she’s no longer a
one-handed hold!) and today a young chit of a thing had a blank moment and
drove when she wasn’t supposed to.
All I saw was a car
headed directly toward the skinny, skipping body of my happy little 6-year-old.
I screamed. She turned. She saw the car, and she ran. But she was running to
the right and the car was turning right and it must have seemed for all the
world like the car was chasing her. It sure as hell felt like it to me, the
more she moved out of the way, the more that car gained on her. I’m not sure if she screamed or not, but I’m sure
someone else did, or maybe it was me hearing myself; they do say that happens.
I reached my arm out as if to stop the car, grab my kid, something. Have to say
it wasn’t very effective. I think
other people were yelling, but I can’t be sure. It’s true, in times like this,
your vision narrows and everything else becomes unreal, or a blur. The car
stopped and the driver, a young skinny dark-haired woman with horror that
probably equaled mine on her face half-fell out of the car. I remember turning
to look at her as I was racing to Ruby; she was saying ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,
I’m sorry’. Ruby was standing stock still on the side of the road and just let
me hug her. Thankfully someone had decided that corner was a good place to put
a bench to sit on, so we all sat and hugged, and then the woman appeared – she
had tears pouring down her face and just repeated, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ over
and over again. Weirdly, I was calm. Ruby was calm. I even hugged the
girl-woman and told her it was ok. It plainly wasn’t, but Ruby was ok and I
felt for this girl too – I’ve also had a snap moment of inattention while
driving and nearly hit a child with my car. It’s a ‘there but for the grace of God
go I’ situation. For all of us.
Then all of a sudden,
I wasn’t really sure – had I let Ruby run out when the green man wasn’t actually lit? Did I miss
something? I started to ask the girl, and right then a man from across the road
arrived and pointed at the girl and said “you were at fault, you were in the
wrong”. Kind of whew for me. It seems bad enough that something awful had just
about happened, let alone if it had been my lack of judgment that got my baby
nearly killed. Even so.
Eventually there was
nothing left to do but carry on to our own car. I kept saying to Ruby ‘are you
ok?’; she just wasn’t reacting like I expected her to. Then as she got into her
car seat, her face and body crumpled. “I
dropped my lollipop” she sobbed, and the gates were unleashed. A frightened
little girl emerged from the calm and composed layers. There’s nothing more
heartbreaking than a little one sobbing like their heart has broken and trying
to comfort them when you know that nothing but time is going to work. And when
you feel like sitting with your head in your hands and sobbing in exactly the
same way.
Thanks to the support
of friends who dropped and ran when I made the “something awful nearly just
happened and I need some support” phone call, we made it through the rest of
the afternoon, and ruby got a replacement lollipop. But I feel like my head’s
been split all day – one half has been doing bathtime and getting dinner, the
other half has the story on loop. Screaming at the car, reaching for my
daughter, holding her while she cried, thanking the gods that she was ok ...
I’m going to bed now,
but first, just for a bit, I’m going to sit on Ruby’s bed and watch her sleep.
Because I can.