I was pulling out of a junction this morning. In the distance was a family, there was a lady, and two children. The little boy, about 3 years, was running, as fast as he could, he tripped, he fell. Smack on the floor. He stood up, he was in shock, he was in pain, he no longer was flying, his world had crashed in on him. He turned, saw the lady. For a split second he smiled. He held his arms out, and sobbed. The lady picked him up, and hugged him back. It all lasted a few a few seconds. A snap shot. I can still see that split second relief of a smile – “I am going to be ok” relief of a smile.
Shortly after the boys moved in, the boys were playing out. I was watching from the kitchen. One of them was running, he tripped, and slid across the jagged Tarmac. He lay there. He didn’t move. He was frozen in time. He was in shock. As I got outside I could see the blood coming off his face. He had not seen me at this point. He screamed. He screamed the loudest piercing scream I have ever heard. It was abject terror. I got to him. I picked him up. He screamed. He could not stop. The neighbours came out of their houses. He could not hear. He was frozen in terror. He could not understand someone was helping him. He could not hear. He was snatched from his reality to when he had been hurt before. When no one helped him. No one came. We sat on the floor, till he stopped hyperventilating. Till the terror subsided. Till he managed to breathe enough to sob, uncontrollably. I got him cleaned up, put plasters on his knees. Wiped the tears away.
Last week, he was making a cup of coffee for me and him ( I know, how lucky am I that my teenage son, makes me a coffee!). Some of the boiling water splashed his hand, he shouted some expletive, I went to investigate .
“You OK?” I asked, he smiled at me. “Yeah, burnt my self, look”. It looked red already. We ran it under the cold tap.
I remembered that smile again this morning. Small steps…