Growing Grown-Ups

Today I received a startling video capturing the footage of a motorcycle accident where the rider was a friend of the family. It was graphic. Recorded by an in-vehicle camera, the terrible event clearly played out the offending vehicle colliding with the bike at an intersection, sending both bike and rider through the air. Thankfully, it was not gruesome, with the rider coming away with abrasions and a hell of a story, supplemented with a sensational video to satisfy any voyeuristic needs. He is in good spirits, recovering at home. Very considerately, he had included a still photo of himself smiling his thousand-watt grin sitting in a wheelchair.

I showed the video to our children, as this friend has played a meaningful part in their lives, as their young swim coach and ‘big brother’ who taught them the ukulele. It was important for them to realise the distressing impact that accidents have on the rider, riders’ families and friends. How dangerous it can be on the roads! These fleeting and uncontrollable moments can change our lives forever.

While we sat around the table after school, we discussed how he must feel. Words were thrown around the table – sadness, pain, in shock, anger at the driver who hit him, boredom at home during this period of convalescence, relief that he was not more seriously injured.

The children insisted on paying him a visit this evening. We turned to deliberate over the gifts we would bring. Our resident baker suggested whipping up a cake, for a sweet treat will surely be appropriate to celebrate his narrow escape. The emotional one, who envisaged he would feel dreadfully sad, volunteered to draw him a card to brighten his mood. And our shopper, capitalizing on a chance to spend, suggested we buy him a gift, a game or a book, so he would not go stir crazy being home bound.

There was an awful realization of the downtime, being a cost during his recovery. He would not able to coach or teach. In his line of work, he was only paid for the lessons he taught. They seemed acutely aware that the physical injuries he sustained meant he could not earn fees and the motorcycle, his primary mode of transport, was now in desperate need of repair. Their shoulders slumped as they felt overwhelmed and helpless with body language displaying “Man, just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse!” Looking to lift the mood, I asked “Is there anything we can do to help with that?”  Postures straightened. Eyes lit up. Light bulbs appeared over their heads. Conversation resumed. A voice piped up suggesting we could consider a monetary gift to assist in medical bills and bike repairs. I was careful to maintain a neutral facial expression. Interpreting my non-response as not getting with the program, a voice condescendingly added, “You know Mom, it’s like the concept of paying it forward and helping a friend in need (duh)!”

I was impressed. With a little nudge of poignant questions from me, they seemed to catch on very quickly. I was not even going to ask about today’s homework or fuss about instrument practice. Today’s important lessons were already underway without them.

We closed off our discussions agreeing on the delegation of duties – baking, card artistry and book shopping.

A lovely card was composed complete with a beautifully worded prayer, carefully placed stickers and an arrow pointing to the back page filled with ten riddles and jokes, carefully transposed from a joke book. The cardmaker’s magnanimous sign off included every member of our family. A delicious dark chocolate and walnut cake was baked, iced with caramel buttercream dotted with chocolate rocks to resemble a garden and accented with freshly picked flowers and basil leaves from our backyard. The decorating theme was inspired by the fact that he loved being outdoors and is now, sadly stuck at home. The book “Wonder” by R.J. Palacio was precisely gift-wrapped with a note explaining that it was specifically chosen, as it is a personal favourite and on our family’s bestseller list.

Tonight while our friend was touched beyond words, I feel immodestly proud of our children. In the words of Vicki Hoefle, we are well on track to “growing a grown-up”.

One thought on “Growing Grown-Ups

  1. Yida says:

    Beautifully written, Z. I am touched by the girls’ compassion towards the swim coach and their initiatives to make him feel better in their own ways. You are right that this is far more important a lesson than the Kumon, violin practice or home work. You must be so proud of them!

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