Boys on Bikes

It was a warm, sunny afternoon as I was on my way back to the office on my lunch hour. (I truly enjoy getting out of the office and going home for lunch whenever I can).

I sat in my vehicle at a stop light at a rather busy intersection – a junction where my quiet village neighborhood meets its bustling little downtown of grocery, shops, cafés and restaurants. Then I noticed three little boys on their bikes waiting at the light to cross in front of me. Two were about six or seven years old and the third one, tagging along with them, was about four. They were blond and adorable and I wondered to myself if I would be having a son in the near future.

Then I heard one of the older ones say, “Come on, we can go now,” and with that, they began to get on their bikes and start heading across the street. They didn’t look to their left. That’s when I saw a car charging ahead through the amber light, clipping along at a pretty good speed to get through the light in time. The car was headed right toward the boys.

It was one of those perfunctory moments for me - when animal instinct, that deeply embedded knee-jerk impulse, takes over without volition. My hand flipped up and my mouth opened as frantic sound came pouring out. “Stop! Don’t go! Don’t go!” The voice didn't sound like mine at all but the phantom voice of a faithfully departed crossing guard who lingers around for times like this. The boys looked at me and halted as the car came to a screeching stop.

They stared wide-eyed at the car, mouths open. The driver resumed onward at a much slower speed, appearing relieved. One of the boys said, “Wo! That was close.”

When the coast was clear, they crossed in front of me on their bikes. That’s when I noticed the little one, the blond 4-year-old on his tiny bike gazing up at me. He kept looking at me as they rode away. He looked somewhere between shocked, frightened and relieved, with a slight smile on his face.

Nothing stood a chance of ruining my mood after that episode and the feeling lasted all weekend.