Fragility

I almost saw a child die today.

It began as an evening like any other.

I was walking home from work after picking up dinner for my partner and I.

I was catching up on the phone with my dad.

Nothing seemed amiss.

As I continued down the road, I passed a convenience store. Out front, a little girl was protesting what looked to be her mom’s request to put on a coat. She was stomping around, furrowing her brow as she yelled, “No! I don’t wanna! No!”

Kids protesting with their parents in public is pretty common. I saw it, but didn’t think anything of it.

Seemingly fed up with her mom’s pleas, the girl turned and ran in the direction I was walking. I could hear her mom asking her to come back. She didn’t sound worried.

“Ah, c’mere now,” she said as she began sauntering after her.

At this point, I was standing at a crosswalk. The “do not walk” signal was illuminated. There wasn’t any cross-traffic, but I waited regardless. I wasn’t particularly focused on anything; my gaze was wide and calm.

That is, until the girl bolted past me into the street.

Before I knew it, she was almost halfway across when a car had jumped into view from my left.

It was speeding straight for her, laying on its horn but making no attempt to stop.

All my senses snapped into focus.

Before I could react, the car sped past the girl, passing so closely that the force knocked her backwards. By my account, it missed her by mere inches.

Adrenaline now flooding my body, I saw the girl sitting in the middle of the road, looking towards me, wailing in fear and confusion. Her mom raced towards her. The look on her face and the cries she emitted were unmistakable. It was pure, unadulterated terror.

I almost watched this little girl die.

She survived thanks to sheer luck.

It was terrifying.

The proverbial dust clearing, the girl then got up and ran towards her mom, who scooped her up mid-stride. They embraced, cried, and ran back to the convenience store where others looked to be waiting for them.

I stood at the crosswalk, now signalling “cross,” trying to process what just happened.

“Why didn’t I see the car?”

“If I had seen it, could I have attempted stopped it?”

“If I couldn’t stop it, could I have made it to the girl in time to prevent her from being hit?”

“Could I have survived being hit by that car if it meant protecting the girl?”

Part of me thought there was nothing I could have done.

Had life’s chips fallen another way, that girl would be dead, another victim of life’s entropy.

Part of me felt guilty.

Had I been more present and paid better attention, maybe I could have seen this coming and prevented it.

My thoughts were racing. I was completely shaken.

As I slowly resumed my walk home, confronted with the reality that it can truly end at any moment, I thought about the fragility of life.

I thought about how grateful I was that luck was on that little girl’s side today.

I thought about how lucky that girl’s mom and family are to be able to bring her home.

I thought about how lucky the driver was to have avoided an accident that would have ruined multiple lives.

This experience also made me think about how lucky *I* am to be alive, even though I was never in any danger.

Life is a beautiful gift that we’ve been given against unfathomable odds. To watch it almost be taken from someone so young was sobering. It reminded me to appreciate it.

I hope this experience encourages you to stop for a moment today and appreciate yours, too.

I love you all. Stay safe. Stay present.

And, as emperor Marcus Aurelius wrote, use your numbered days “to throw open the windows of your soul to the sun.”