A young man died Saturday night.
He was riding his bike and was hit by a car.
We were on our way to dinner as we drove by; the paramedics were pumping his chest.
The guy’s bike was in the middle of the street, in about five pieces.

We spent the evening at dinner with friends. We had heavy hearts, but soon forgot about the dying man.
Several hours later, as we drove home, there was no trace of the “accident”.

Tonight we went to another party.
There was a white wooden cross by the side of the road.
There were blue balloons.

A man died while we partied.
A life was snuffed out as we enjoyed ours.

There is a time for everything, a time for joy and a time for sorrow. Sorrow for his family gripped me in the pit of my stomach tonight, even as we drove to our next party.
He was simply riding his bike, and we saw him as he died.
We saw an anonymous man – others grieve for one who may have been their son, boyfriend, husband, father, best friend.

Life is shorter than we think, and so very precious.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

found out today that he was 15.
12/6/2006