The Boy and His Bike...

All right, so I was late. It shouldn't matter so much, but that day it did! I had taken cough medicine the night before and slept through our obnoxious alarm. My hubby nudged me with his elbow and pushed me out of the bed. It was 6:20! Oh no! I was LATE for work for the very first time ever! Ugh! I threw the previous days' clothes bundled on the bedroom floor and stumbled down the stairs. There was no time for makeup or toothbrushing. Ugh! I hurried to the car and cruised towards the hospital in which I work. As I exited the highway on a quite sidestreet, I saw a van stopped in the middle of the road and a crumpled bike under its wheels. I hoped out of my running car fearing the worst. A young boy had been struck. No one knew his name and he only spoke Spanish. After a quick medical assessment, I scooped up the boy and travelled to the hospital only yards away. He was not injured badly just very frightened. I had copied the liscense plate number and gave it to the hospital security guard for the police when they arrived. I scurried to my unit to start my day. I was repremanded by my supervisor for my tardiness... I tried to explain the events that had contributed. If I had been on time, I may have been in front of that van - avoiding the boy being hit - arriving to work on time - and refraining from my supervisors verbal warning. That's if it was a PERFECT world...