I remember it as a rainy autumn evening. I was walking home from school, umbrella in hand, heavy bag weighing my shoulders down. The air was crisp, refreshing even, but amidst the pain in my shoulders I hadn’t noticed this simple pleasure. All I could think about was the how each step I took on the wet pavement, would get me closer to home, to warmth and comfort. I was a mere 10 or 15 meters away from home when from the corner of my eye I saw a child riding his bike. It was too late. With his speed, his tires slipped from underneath him, causing him to lose control of the bike. He crashed straight into a lamppost, his small figure skidding across the thankfully empty street. I stared in horror, eyes wide. It was like everything slowed down around me. Why is it that in the very moment I needed my brain to react quickly, that even the loudest of my thoughts went dead silent?! Instinctively, my right foot placed itself in front of my left one and I began sprinting to the child. He wasn’t crying. I reached the child and immediately dropped to my knees to check if his eyes were open. Before I could do anything else, the kid sat himself up. He was wearing a blue and yellow raincoat with dinosaur all over it, paired with green gumboots to suit the rainy weather. 

“My bike.” he stammered.

“Are you okay?!” I asked in return

“I need to get my bike.”

“We can get your bike later. It’s important to make sure you aren’t hurt first.”

He tried to get up, and brush it off, but I could see him wince at the pain in his joints. He sat back down. He rolled the bottom of his pants up, exposing bleeding wounds on each of his knees. 

“Do you have a band-aid?” he asked, his eyes darting everywhere caused by the shock he just felt.

“It’s not good to put a band-aid on an open wound without cleaning it. Lets get you home.” I explained, trying to keep my cool when in fact, I had no idea how words were still able to roll of my tongue. 

He stayed on the wet pavement, as I hurried to go and get his bike, which had landed on its side on the road. As we began the walk towards his home, he talked excitedly about his swimming classes, forgetting the pain in his wounds. When we arrived, his mother came down to collect him and his bike and thanked me with great gratitude. On the walk back home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how horribly wrong the situation could have been if the child had crashed into traffic or didn’t have his helmet on. 

The walk back home from school the next day was different. Suddenly, the chirping of the birds became harmonious, the blue sky became delicate and the crisp air became a blessing.