Why These Moments pt. 2

And just like that, I snapped back to reality. The kid’s body was in my arms as I continued to do what I had been trained to do. I let go of the grip and, using the palm of my hand, I hit him in the back, hoping that it might finally dislodge what's been stuck in his airway. Suddenly, he took a giant breath of air. He coughed and then spit. Then he took another ragged breath of air. 'Are you able to breathe now?' I asked. 'Yeah,' he mumbled and then looked at me. 'Thank you for saving me.' he said, then sat down on the bench nearby.

Before long, the wail of sirens could be heard, and a firetruck pulled up near where we were. After the EMTs arrived, Deb and I slipped away to continue walking to the T stop.

I took a deep breath as we stood and waited for the train to come. Even though it was the middle of December, sweat trickled down my back. 'Why does this type of stuff seem to happen to us?' I asked Deb. 'I don't know,' she responded,' Maybe, maybe we are supposed to be in the wrong place at the right time.' 'Yeah, maybe we are,' I agreed. I took another deep breath. There was an intense, nervous energy in my body. Some might describe it as the fight response. I took a deep breath, held it for four seconds, and then let it out. I repeated the process again.

In the moments that followed, the thought slowly ran through my head. 'You did enough.' You see, I had been haunted in the years that followed after the incident with Richard at the bus stop. Being at the wrong place at the right time. I was reassured that I had done enough, both on that hot June day at the bus stop on Mass and Albany Street and on that dark December evening walking to the T.