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When Something Happens to Your Child, the World Stops
The memory of my son’s accident will always haunt me
Ten seconds can flash by, almost unnoticed. Or they can last a lifetime.
When he was six, my son was struck by an automobile in front of our house. It was the Friday night before Halloween. We had just finished putting together his Big Bird costume, a masterful construction of cardboard and orange crepe paper. Both of us had spent several days cutting and gluing each individual feather, and I knew he’d want to show it off as soon as his dad arrived home from work. I was already on my way out to call him in from playing with the kids across the street. Right on cue, I heard his dad’s car pull into the driveway and stop.
Then it happened. I didn’t see the accident, but I heard it.
I heard it.
The world literally stopped.
Except I could see my shoes on the cement walkway — one step, another, and another, moving me toward the street. I could feel the pounding of my heart and breath rasping in my throat.
Time seemed to stretch out in an elastic band of surprised shouts, the shriek of brakes; one startled, high-pitched cry; the unmistakable crump of a hard, unyielding metal grill striking a small, soft body; tires sliding…
