It unfolded
when my youngest daughter
called from school,
she’d missed the bus. I got
in the Tahoe, drove up my road,
going slowly round the bend,
school below me on the left,
to which I glanced, looking.
Go past the kid’s footbridge
with its long steps
down into the school yard,
and turn to the right,
on Poppy, as I started down the hill,
I turned around, got back on the road,
and stopped at the stop sign…

(A boy on a bike,
streams rapidly into my view,
he’s not wearing a helmet,
but there is a mitt
on his handlebars,
our eyes meet,
he is coming down the hill, fast,
I think he is being courteous,
and going around me,
to continue down the hill to the fields,
he veers onto Poppy,
I hear a THUNK…)
My heart…sank. I leapt out,
frantic, boy and bike, intertwined,
frozen, for an instant, then
he was getting up, holding
his chin, which dripped
crazily large drops
of richly hued Life
into his hands, my hands,
as I pressed Dairy Queen napkins
to his gashed chin. (He’s crying,
he wants to know if I have a mirror,
he tells me he’s sorry for the damage
to my vehicle…he’s sorry,
I don’t even notice,
he says his softball mitt
was on his handbrake, he
couldn’t slow down, he wants to know,
if he needs stitches…) I

grabbed his bike, threw it in the back,
told the boy to let me see his chin, again,
an inch long gash,
just below the angle, edges folded in,
a bit of flesh hanging down, in the middle,
I told him maybe not…it was up to the doctor,
but he knew, we knew. I hustled him
into the front seat as my daughter
came running across the road, he lived
on my street, it took me 20 seconds
to zoom to his home, to his just-moved-in
mother, what a welcome wagon gift…
(I am shaking, like a wind-whipped palm frond,
but I have done what I could, she takes him
to the ER, I continue to my home,
call my husband, call the cops,
don’t do the shot I so desperately want…)

I was questioned for the report
when the Deputy Sheriff came,
gave my info., my driver’s license number,
insurance confirmation receipt, my memory
of the event, and, oh, yes, there was
quite a little bit of damage
to the back left panel of the vehicle,
he hit it so hard.
(I am horrified, at myself,
I can’t believe I caused injury,
to this boy on a bike, going
to softball practice…) He
gives me a voluntary statement
to fill out, saying he will be back.
He needs to talk to the boy. I’m glad.
I want to know how he is doing. The boy
asked his Mom if he needed stitches,
she said, yes, he begged to be put to sleep…
(I feel guilty, shaky, restless, worried,
I do that shot I wanted, and a few more,
for my nervy jumpiness…)

The DS finally comes back,
the boy on the bike
had six stitches put in his chin,
and he is at softball practice,
his mom at work. I am so relieved,
but he’s not done. The boy, he says,
told his mother
I had saved his life,
he WAS turning onto Poppy,
he was biking to his friend’s house,
not trying to go behind me,
but he could not get to his brake,
to slow down, the mitt
was in the way,
and he was going so fast,
he would have gone soaring
off the cliff,
and fallen 40 feet…

I wonder, was it fate…?

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 4/18/03