By Lucy Luginbill
From Tri-City Herald (Kennewick, Wash.)
First. Last.
They don’t often collide. But when they do, your heart knows.
I was a witness to that kind of occasion years ago — a “first time” I knew would be the “last time.”
It happened in such an ordinary way, a scene that’s been repeated between parent and child through the generations. An event that often isn’t given much thought.
But as I stood in that moment — one long past but so present in today’s memory — my daughter had run alongside her little son, his feet furiously pumping the bicycle pedals and her hand steadying the wavering little boy. My eyes had grown misty….