Sharp Corners

When our kids were small we attached plastic cushions to the corners of our coffee table. Inevitably their toddling would become tumbling, and those sharp corners would inflict serious damage. It was ours to foresee what they were too young and inexperienced to foresee for themselves.
As adults we can see many of life's sharp corners before we stumble into them, and adjust accordingly. But what about when we spot someone running head long into a fire or tottering dangerously close to the edge of the cliff? If we see something that someone else does not yet see—for whatever reason—is it not our responsibility to do something beneficial with that knowledge? To withhold it and then announce after the disaster, "I could see that coming," seems negligent. To then blame them for their lack of foresight, however foolish, seems cruel.
Friendship has always called for some form of having each others' backs. Not all eyes are clear enough to see all life's sharp corners.