The phone call came in from school. My youngest son, Thomas, had fallen and cut his face. Could I come pick him up – he’ll need to go to the emergency room. This was the first day following the school vacation. Many other towns had canceled school because of a storm. My first thought was that he fell on the ice. I did a quick scrape of the windows, jumped in my cold car, cranked the dials on high for some heat and defrost and made my way to school. I envisioned a gash on his face, and wondered what that would look like in the future.

When I arrived, he was sitting calmly, holding his Webkinz penguin. He had already been prepared that he would be going to the emergency room, and most likely would need some stitches. To my surprise, however, I learned that the accident had nothing to do with the ice and snow outside. Rather, because of an untied shoelace, he had a nasty fall into a metal chair. The gash was at his eyebrow, and I thought, thank God for hair. Of all the places on the face, this was probably the best spot.

Holding the cloth over his eye, we carefully made our way to the car parked at the curb. Off to the emergency room we went. The wintery roads were not good, the sky was dreary and the visibility was poor. I drove slowly.

We arrived at Mercy Hospital, and after a short wait, Thomas was cared for. “You need stitches, buddy,” said the nurse. “Yeah, I know,” replied Thomas, matter of factly. Applying some numbing gel, the nurse advised that we give it a half hour to work. Taking the whole thing in stride, we headed to the cafeteria for some hot chocolate. I’m convinced that all things can be made good with a cup of hot chocolate.

When it came time for the stitches, it was clear that the numbing gel didn’t work. That meant the nurse had to go in with a needle to the wound and inject it with something more. Watching his eye puff up and his body stiffen in pain, I jumped up to be at his side. I watched as the nurse slowly (it seemed a painful slow motion) injected the wound. Thomas was fine. She glanced at me, and advised me to take a seat across the room.

He felt no pain as she carefully laced the wound shut. Six stitches and we were off. As we made our way to the parking lot, his concerned teacher called. The whole accident was such a fluke and she was still grasping the events that followed the simple trip of a shoelace. Thomas would be OK. This was an accident – chalked up as a life experience. They happen in your simple, everyday activities, when you least expect anything to go wrong, and often right before your eyes. We rehashed the events for a half hour, while Thomas sat in the back seat. “Can we go home now?” he asked. “Yes,” I said, “but one more stop. We need to go buy some Neosporin at the drug store.”

Making my way across the Casco Bay Bridge, I decided to stop at the South Portland Rite Aid – I could get in and out of there quickly. Driving in was like pulling into a snow cave. The snow banks towered high above my van. I parked close to the door, taking careful, methodical steps across the ice underfoot. I purchased the Neosporin, jumped in the car and headed toward the parking lot exit. I had to nose into the road to be able to see if any cars were coming – the snow banks were blocking my safe view. I envisioned the makings of another accident, and that thought scared me.

I reminded myself that when you anticipate an accident, cautionary steps can prevent an occurrence. So, watch your step, tie your shoelaces and drive carefully – winter can be brutal. Even still, accidents happen. Thank God for those who care, and hot chocolate.