January 14, 2026
Lying in the middle of the road with the sun in my face and gravel poking me everywhere was secondary to the pain in my foot, twisted and caught between the spokes of my brother’s bike.
I looked to make sure no cars were coming, though there wasn’t much I could have done about it anyway. I couldn’t get up. The bike had me trapped. I was scared I would be run over.
I listened for the sound of cars but heard nothing and was only slightly reassured that I would probably see a plume of dust before I actually heard one. The blind hill about 200 feet in front of me was worrisome, because cars usually came up over it pretty fast.
Just before that, my brother Monty, had been giving me a ride on his new bike. He told me to hold my feet out and away from the spokes so they wouldn’t get caught. I listened, and I did try—but accidents happen anyway.
Watching him run away from me toward the house scared me, too. I knew he was going to get Mom, but I felt so alone. It seemed like I had been lying there a long time, but it probably wasn’t more than five minutes, since we weren’t far from the house.
Finally, I saw Mom and Monty hurrying down the driveway toward me. I was so glad to see them. Mom gently removed my foot from between the spokes and carried me back to the house, where she examined my foot and determined that no bones were broken.
Looking back, it’s clear to me that even then, my brother had my best interests at heart.
Through My Eyes, Gently 