The little family was heading to the crossway andĀ in my direction asĀ I was sitting on the bench in the sun, thirty yards from the crossway, waiting for a friend to emerge from a store. They made the prettiest picture: the father pushing aĀ stroller, theĀ motherĀ to his left, holding the hand of aĀ preschooler. The little oneĀ skipping, pigtails bouncing,Ā dressed in pink t-shirt andĀ purple tutu, light up sandals, little handbag full ofĀ turquoiseĀ rhinestones andĀ the latestĀ animated princess character; giddy with the unsuppressedĀ delight that kidsĀ that age can have.Ā I had me a feeling they were on their way to the ice-cream store across from the bench I was on. The excited anticipation was written all over the little face.
Steps from the crosswalk and probably noticingĀ the commotion on the cornerĀ right behind a row of parked cars and flashing lights, the motherĀ tried to circle to the father’s other side.Ā MaybeĀ she intended to putĀ herself and the other adult as barriers to theĀ scene on theĀ asphalt.
There was a personĀ on the ground ten feet away from the sidewalk, right behind the row of parked cars.Ā Paramedics with a backboard.Ā An ambulance. Two police cars flashing lights and directing traffic from theĀ three lanes to just one, keeping a perimeter soĀ the nosierĀ onlookers not get too close to the accident.Ā Another police man stood by a car parkedĀ sidewaysĀ across one lane,Ā talking to the driver who hit the man. There was concern in the air. I’d been sending some good thoughts when I noticed the family nearing.
TheĀ child wasĀ too short to see over the parked cars, butĀ either the energy of the congregated people or the movement of her motherĀ caught her attention. SheĀ stopped skipping. Stood.Ā Tried to see. The mother stopped, as well, thenĀ tugged gently on herĀ daughter’s hand. TheĀ childĀ did not move.Ā The woman stoodĀ a moment–maybe considering the benefit ofĀ picking up the child toĀ get them moving away from the areaĀ butĀ give the child a vantage point that could be startling.Ā The father bent toward the little one, said something.Ā TheĀ girl nodded andĀ resumed walking, but her head kept swivelingĀ toward the street and asĀ they crossed and theĀ cars no longer obscured everything, sheĀ slowed. TheĀ mother pickedĀ her up and rushedĀ to make it to the other side before the light changed. To put some distance, too.
The child kept talking, the mother shook her head and spoke back, tried to turn the child in her arms to face the other way andĀ stillĀ the child kept turning her head over the mother’s shoulder–looking at the scene on the street: the paramedics were liftingĀ the man on the board onto the stretcher. The family walked faster now that the little one was in arms. I could sense the parents urgency in wantingĀ to get her away.
I could hear themĀ as they walked closer.
“So you are ready to getĀ some ice-cream?” The father, his voice kind but a bit too loud and Ā strained in theĀ slightly false cheer of worried grownĀ ups thatĀ children always pick up on.
TheĀ girl nodded, her attention still divided.Ā She looked back. “Why he has a big Band-Aid?”
The neck-brace. It did look like a big Band-Aid fromĀ theĀ distance.
“They are just helping him be more comfortable,” theĀ dad responded. The mom lookedĀ upset, walked faster.
“He has a big boo-boo?” the little girlĀ looked again.
“Maybe. Don’t worry. They’ll take him to the doctor and make sure he’s okay.”
“He fall down?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t want him to have aĀ big boo-boo,” the little girlĀ said, frowning. Then her eyes brightened. “Maybe he wantĀ ice-cream tooĀ so heĀ feel all better.”
“He doesn’t want ice-cream,” the mother blurted asĀ they reached the ice-cream store and walked in.
Maybe not the kind that comes in a cone, I thought, but the energy of sweetness from this child I bet already made him feel better, even if he did not know the pigtailed gold-heartĀ who offered it.
Evening Standard / Getty Images 1956
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Na'ama Yehuda 
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