Reflections

Rose-colored Reflections

• By fannieb
• December 17, 2015
• No Comments

Why do things unfold as they do? A couple of days ago I experienced two things that stood in stark contrast only minutes apart. It was Monday morning and I had decided to get to work early, get my week off on the right foot; so I got started on my morning walk as the sun was ascending in the sky just behind the train tracks. The sky was a mysterious blend of pink and blue, the colors reminiscent of a Maxfield Parrish painting. It felt magical. I snapped several photos on my phone to capture the beauty and continued on my walk, lighter in spirit, happier.

Ten minutes later I happened on a gathering of elementary school kids, along with a couple of their parents, waiting for the school bus to arrive, just like on any other normal school day (though I hadn’t seen this scene in almost a month since I’d been sleeping later). I heard the rumble of the school bus’ engine shifting down gears to make its next pickup just as I passed the little black boy of seven or eight who always seems shy and reserved, and sometimes obedient to his parents’ command of “don’t talk to strangers” and on other days seems to ignore it altogether by smiling at me and saying “hi” softly.

I continued on toward the next cluster of children and I saw two boys running on the sidewalk in an attempt to make it to the bus stop in time. And all seemed well until another boy with the same intention but whose legs were as fast as cheetah’s bounded across the unchecked street. And what happened in the next split second seemed to take 10. I threw my hands up into the air muttering, “oh no” and quickly prayed that this boy would not be struck by the car headed in his direction, that his body would not go flying into the air and land violently on the street, and that I would not be saddled with this image seared into my mind forever.

The driver of the car slammed on brakes in the nick of time and the boy made it safely to the other side of the street. Relieved, I sighed, but was still caught up in my upset for what could have been a horrific end at the beginning of this rose-colored day.

I was relieved and thankful in that moment. Later I found myself wondering what powers were at work intervening, ensuring this time, this incident was harmless. Why had the boy been spared? Why had the driver been spared? Why had I been spared? The gratitude I feel now intensifies my curiosity about what influences we, all who were witness to the averted tragedy, might have had on how this event played out.