Split second

Last Wednesday, on my way home from work on Mac Arthur and Hunter Ferrell, (side streets, I don't travel the highway) I witnessed a young guy wreck driving his crotch rocket. He had wrecked alone. Right before my eyes, I could see this explosion of Suzuki parts flying everywhere. I dialed 911 and stated there was possibly a fatality with brain matter on the road. His helmet lied a few feet away. I didn't want to look or stop because it hit too close to home. Suddenly all these good Samaritans stopped so I felt o.k. to drive on. I had done my part calling the emergency response system. I drove by with this sick, empty, bottomless stomach pit feeling. He was like a rag doll.

I wondered if he would be alright all that evening and the few days following, it was still on my mind. I expressed my concern to Scott and asked how I could find out if he survived. He said if there was orange paint on the road he probably was a goner.

The next day I drove by the accident scene and it looked like there was possibly orange paint. I wasn't really certain because it looked a little faded. Then, it was confirmed for me when I drove by on Monday. Someone had placed a cross there. I didn't even know this guy and I still felt an empty sick feeling to my stomach. I had prayed he would be o.k.