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Falling Off a Bicycle into the Pits of Despair
Hard times are hard.
Exactly one week ago, my little sister — who is seven — managed to jump on a bike (which she doesn’t know how to ride) roll down a hill and break her two front teeth and a wrist.
That sucks.
She’s healing, and back to running around the house — albeit with a cast on for a while.
But the situation was so scary that it made everyone around negative and nervous for a long time. After she came home and we saw that she was okay, things moved on like normal.
It got me thinking for a while about despair. It was such a bad experience for everyone involved, and while it’s still not over — we’re mostly better. Only some trauma is left.
My father having to see his little daughter in the worst possible state. An already overprotective mother who was already convinced that you can’t tear your eyes away from children for even a second having her belief reinforced in the most painful way. Everyone hoping that this was just a one-off event and that there would be no long-term complications.
Life is filled with these sorts of moments for me. Moments where things go somewhat astray and I lose sight of what’s even going on. My whole body goes numb and it’s hard to muster up the will to say anything. Moments…
