This fragile life

This evening, while we were tucking into our Saturday night pizza, there was an almighty crash outside our front door. We have no front yard, the door opens onto a narrow footpath, then the road. We could see outlines of people through the frosted glass of the door. We could hear the commotion. I opened the door to find a young girl slumped in the gutter, right outside. Blood dripping from her chin and a number of different cuts and grazes all over her body. A push bike lay mangled next to her. A young boy, standing next to her, looking wide-eyed, pale and a tad frightened. Within moments, my neighbour was also by my side, as were a congregation of other neighbours and onlookers.

I find situations like that surreal. Everyone bumbling around, confused, concerned, unsure of what to do next. We established she'd lost control of the bike at the top of the hill and careered into our security door. In tears and shaking, her only apparent worry... that her mother did not know she had ventured so far from home. A tale as old as the hills... I think we've all been there at one time or another. So my queasy stomach took a beating, as my neighbour and I helped her off the street, cleaned up the wounds and waited for her Mum to arrive. There were so many cuts and way too much blood for my liking. Angus was also strangely fascinated, asking dozens of questions about the "girl who fell off her bike". I'm sure she'll be sore and sorry, but so lucky it wasn't alot worse. 

I've been in a rather reflective haze today anyway. Beautiful sweet Kayla passed away on Thursday and since my sister-in-law broke the news to me yesterday, I have battled to think of anything else. Particularly if my hands are not busy and my mind is alone to ponder. So many emotions rising to the fore. Anger, at why this cruel world allows such things to happen. Guilt, at my overwhelming thankfulness for my two healthy boys. Sorrow, so deep and raw, it hurts. Children are made up of all things innocent and good and hopeful, they make life worth living. As long as I live, I know I will never understand why they are sometimes taken so soon. Precious little Kayla will at least suffer no more. I like to imagine she is free now, at peace and in the arms of the angels.