While driving home, I see a little tike running down the sidewalk, backpack over his shoulders, his longish hair swishing back and forth. It's unusual to see a child walking down a sidewalk by himself.
I used to walk to school, and if memorable exaggeration isn't in charge, it seems like it was a fair distance. I remember leaving an hour before school started. I walked with friends, with sisters, by myself.
We don't send our children to school a pied anymore because we don't trust people or we've looked up location maps to find sexual offenders in our neighborhood. So, it is with love and concern that I watch this little boy run, looking for a mother behind or a classmate up ahead, but he is alone. I then assume he is just running from one house to another where he will meet a playmate or take his piano lesson or catch a ride to soccer practice. Surely, the mother is looking out the window, expecting a phone call any moment to let her know he arrived safely.
In case he is alone, I slow down and keep my gaze upon him for an extra two seconds--not on my watch will anyone snatch him; I even consider pulling over, even following him to make sure he arrives to the end of the block--the thought forces a lump in my throat because what if I were considered the danger. What if while willing his safety, watching him close, an observer called the police and dictated my license plate.
I drive on. If only...
If only the child knew how I cared about him without knowing who he was. If only every person who drove buy, watched him for their personally assigned, designated seconds. Like an unseen baton passed from car to car, every child is safe.
I used to walk to school, and if memorable exaggeration isn't in charge, it seems like it was a fair distance. I remember leaving an hour before school started. I walked with friends, with sisters, by myself.
We don't send our children to school a pied anymore because we don't trust people or we've looked up location maps to find sexual offenders in our neighborhood. So, it is with love and concern that I watch this little boy run, looking for a mother behind or a classmate up ahead, but he is alone. I then assume he is just running from one house to another where he will meet a playmate or take his piano lesson or catch a ride to soccer practice. Surely, the mother is looking out the window, expecting a phone call any moment to let her know he arrived safely.
In case he is alone, I slow down and keep my gaze upon him for an extra two seconds--not on my watch will anyone snatch him; I even consider pulling over, even following him to make sure he arrives to the end of the block--the thought forces a lump in my throat because what if I were considered the danger. What if while willing his safety, watching him close, an observer called the police and dictated my license plate.
I drive on. If only...
If only the child knew how I cared about him without knowing who he was. If only every person who drove buy, watched him for their personally assigned, designated seconds. Like an unseen baton passed from car to car, every child is safe.
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