DAWN WILL RISE
By Tessa Harvey
Straight beneath the almost three-year-old was concrete, at least twelve feet down.
"Hello David," she had managed to say calmly. A person had said you do your praying before an emergency. There is little time during an emergency. Well, she had never prayed really since childhood.
"Now David, hold the railing very tight while I come and see. Hold very tight David, and watch me come. Okay?" "Okay," he echoed cheerfully.
"Now David, are you looking at mummy and holding tight? Here I am. Don't let go now!"
She reached down as fast as she dared, not looking down either, totally, totally concentrating. Her arms reached round his little body. Steady.
"Let go now." She lifted him up and over the railing and hugged him. The week before he had stroked a bee to be friends, and been stung. So she explained he must always climb the steps properly. If he didn't and fell, it would hurt more than ten bees. He held her very tightly and promised.
Later she wondered how calm she had been. Had she panicked, she knew he would have fallen.
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