The wheels of time slowed to a crawl,
As I stopped at the intersection
On a breezy day years ago.

It appeared like any other four-way stop.
Cars and pedestrians, all taking turns
Before going their separate ways.

Only later did I recognize the truth.
It was not an ordinary intersection.
It was, and is, the intersection.

Sitting behind the wheel,
I saw the events slowly unfold
For open eyes to see.

The family was to my right
A father, a mother, their children,
And the boy.

The family began to cross,
But the boy did not.
He stood there, alone and scared.

Safely across, the family began to proceed
As the boy solemnly looked on
Realizing his family was gone.

Soon the boy’s absence was felt,
As the father looked back and saw
The boy standing there alone.

His body so small and frail,
Longing for protection
From the frightening world.

The father motioned for the boy to cross,
But the boy hesitated, as he looked at the waiting cars.
With tears streaming down, he finally took his first step.

With his hands held up, motioning the cars to stay put,
The boy hurried across the busy road
To the stern looks of his family.

As time began anew, I saw that the boy was me
And recognized the intersection
For what it was, is, and always will be.

by Cody McCullough

Photo by Elizabeth McCullough