So it was that on Mother’s Day I found myself crossing the Henry Hudson Parkway, darting into a break in the northbound traffic and waiting on the grassy island in the middle for a southbound break so I could cross that, too. And why does a middle aged housewife do this foolish thing? Why, to retrieve a lost soccer ball, of course! I have to say it’s exactly the sort of thing that I’d tell my kids not to do if they asked, and would yell at them for doing it without stopping to consider that indeed this was a stupid idea. But, in that way of grown-ups, a bad idea is never really quite so bad if you think that you can do it because you are paying attention as you break the law or totally violate the dictates of common sense.
And for what?! I didn’t even find the errant ball. I walked maybe a quarter-mile south on the bike path, hugging the river and admiring water as it glistened in the sun which was unseasonably hot for an early-morning early-May day. And as it turns out, the ball that went over the fence into the roadway wasn’t even ours anyway. I did find several flattened soccer balls, way past retrieval, but none of them was ours; I guess they were the detritus of yesterday’s or last week’s games. There is something pretty sad about a deflated, spent ball punctured by the passing wheels of a speeding automobile, never again to be kicked through another goal. So I brought them back to the field to dispose of them properly, dodging traffic three lanes at a time, pausing once again on the grassy island, and coming to a full rest safely inside the high fence of the 107th Street fields.
A week-and-a-half later I learned that at about the same time, a friend crossed the same road a little further down, but with a different purpose, and much worse result. I do not know why he was walking the West Side Highway on a Sunday morning. Maybe he was heading for the boathouse to help out during their opening weekend of free-to-the-public kayaking. As he crossed the road, a motorcyclist swerved to miss him. She hit him anyway, falling off her bike in the process. He landed in the hospital, needing surgery on two limbs; she landed on the pavement, and then in the morgue.
I cannot fully imagine the karmic ramifications of all of this. I do not know about fault or intent or culpability or responsibility. I just know that on Mother’s Day two kids lost their mom, and on a random Sunday, a guy who likes to help, loves to bike and makes his living with his right hand lost an arm and a leg, albeit "only" for a while.
I feel the only thing I can do is pray. I can pray for my friend for a refuah sh’leimah, a complete and speedy recovery of body and mind. And I can say kaddish in the hopes that the soul of the departed may find rest, that her memory may bless those who knew her and loved her, and does not come back to haunt any of those involved in her passing. Seems like a lot to ask, but then again, kaddish really is a tall order, isn’t it. But if we can ask the One who makes peace in all the heavens to cause peace to descend upon the whole world, is it too much to ask that peace come to these two as well?
© Elizabeth Lorris Ritter
5/29/07
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