Just as the child is about to take a potentially life altering step into the street, he hears my plea, and our eyes meet. He stops dead in his tracks. The car whizzes by him, his jacket flaps in the backwash breezes of its momentum. Our eyes lock. He looks at me sheepishly, jolted, awaiting further instructions, unable to move without my command.
Time stands still as our souls interconnect for a seemingly endless, slow motion moment.
Now, I roll my window down. I look up ahead for traffic, and once again, search for signs of movement in my side and rear-view mirrors. I turn my head all the way around this time, straining, in a final, highly cautious, over the shoulder check for other cars. It's okay now, honey, you can go. My tiny, newfound friend skips carefully across the street and wraps his arms around the neck of his runaway dog, just one more, precious time.