The Man Who Did Not Jump

I was driving along in town just the other day, in the busy mid-afternoon bustle. You know, the sort of vehicular and human traffic that makes the roads a dance of avoidance- at every turn and with every second you are trying to avoid hitting the next guy or the car to the left, to the right in front of you- and yes, trying to avoid being hit by the car behind you.

As I crossed one busy intersection, I spotted, crossing the road, a man who did not seem to be aware that I was heading his way. He had a plastic bag in either hand. Now, I’m not a big fan of hooting when things are this busy- you could make someone panic and jump right into the path of another car, so I slowed down.

As I started to step on the brakes, his head turned and he saw me. A look of stricken panic registered on his face, and he made as if to leap but stayed put and almost seemed to brace himself for the impending impact.

It didn’t happen. I stopped, wondering why this !@@#@&%%# man had not moved. Then I saw it. The reason. On his other side, walking beside him was a little boy, who must have been about five years old.

Almost instinctively, he had stood his ground, knowing that if he jumped his son would have been hit by the car.

I was moved. He moved, his little boy, walking happily beside him- unaware what his old man had just done.

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