Not our Daddy

So, today, after a long and drawn-out shopping trip where my husband, 2 kids and I fought the wandering hoards of human debris to return and purchase items of absolutely no significance we passed an accident. No big deal. Lights flashed ahead of us; we pulled over to let 2 cop cars through. At first it looked as though the sea of blue and red would not part and we'd have to find an alternative route home. Mostly I was annoyed by the delay. It had been a long weekend and I really just wanted to be home having my Sunday nap.

I was being short with the kids when they asked what all the commotion was. MD was pulling on the back of my seat to get a better view and the scene ahead was just one more distraction in an already distracting day.

Not that I could blame the kids for rubber necking. Even a family on bikes had come out to see what was going on. A woman and 3 kids straddled their bikes on the side of the road, not the least bit concerned that they were in the way of the emergency vehicles trying to get through.

And then as the cops cut the traffic into one lane and let a few straggling cars get by I saw what had happened. Just to my right, not 10 feet away, lay a man stone cold on the road. The kids saw it too. I realized then that the biking family were not mere spectators, but witnesses to the accident. The victim their father, and husband.

Our car passed by fairly quickly but that 10-second image is something I will never forget. Dark brown hair, gray sweater and jogging pants; he was laying on his side, face turned away. His body was deathly still, a police man crouched beside him. Someone had put a white blanket under his head and it was soaked in a dark crimson.

MD said, "That's the dad who got hit mom." And I said a silent prayer that this would go away, not just for the unknown man's sake, but for his family, and for mine. I didn't want to think about mortality and how all of our hopes and dreams can be ripped from us in the blink of an eye.

So I said my silent prayer that the man would be okay, even though I knew he wouldn't. And I prayed for the family that they could be strong and not scared, even though I knew they couldn't. Then I took some deep breaths and reminded myself that I was okay, that everyone I loved was okay...this helped my anxiety some, until I heard Lou Lou say very quietly from the back seat, "I'm glad that's not our daddy."

Suddenly it hit all at once. It could be. For someone, it was their dad. Where moments before they had been a family now they were victims, lives changed forever. As a mother I live in a false sense of security, I think I have to to cope. I tell myself that if I make everyone wear helmets and seat belts and look both ways before they cross the street that I can protect them. Nothing can break my safe cozy bubble I keep wrapped around us, at least that's what I tell myself.

The truth is, we are all just one bike ride away from destruction in one form or another. Nothing we do can protect all of us all the time, and life is precious. I knew that today, and I've known it before. I'm sure there will be other shopping trips that get under my skin, times when my children are not my favorite people; life is just like that. But tonight, with my babies sleeping soundly in their rooms and my husband here with me, I am thankful for the fragile gift of life and in awe of the respect that it deserves.