Just a Moment

I was listening to Florence and the Machine on a clear day after work while the sun was still out. The drive home was so short there's not enough time to listen to three songs. Just a right-hand turn onto the town's main road, then straight through historic downtown and another right into my neighborhood at the local auto shop.

I loved how close work was, but hated how little time I got to decompress. Even so, those precious minutes were tuning out the world. Until it came crashing through my windshield.

"Too Much Is Never Enough" - Florence + The Machine

I heard the gunshot and knew the deer was dead. I had seen it stumble, failing to get back up after it nearly broke through my windshield trying to jump over my metal human contraption. This was a pretty developed area, where the hell had it come from?

"You been deer huntin' today?" I looked over to the cop. He was smiling.

Years of customer service kicked in and I replied, "And not very successful." I forced a laugh between my tense jaw.

A jumbled voice came over his radio - the second cop had finished what I started. I can't remember what the voice said. Maybe "confirmed," or "terminated," or something less action flicky, like "Poor animal is gone now, Doug. Let's go home."

The smiling cop talked me through getting home safely; it was just the windshield. "Just don't hit anythin' else on the way home."

Another gust of air escaped my grinding jaw bone. A passable laugh.

"Stand By Me" - Florence + The Machine

Every morning on the way to work I drive the rental car past the patch of grass I last saw the deer. It's rained since that day but I wonder at the blood that must've stained the ground after the deer was shot.

I don't look at the patch, eyes forced ahead to watch the road. My chest hurts and my throat constricts. I killed that deer, I realize, and I cry.

I see that the patch is a brilliant green when my guilt no longer allows me to turn away. It's always been hard to pass by roadkill.

I cautiously glance at the green every day now. I feel a pull and finally tell my wife that I think I want to stand there in the green and apologize to the deer that is long gone. To lay flowers in that vast green and cry for the unfairness of man versus nature.

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Hitting an animal on the road is a deeply jarring and distressing situation. That knee-jerk reaction to act like I care as little about life as the rural cop with a gun? Even more so.

I was disgusted with the general state of the world for days after. Why was this affecting me so much? It was just a deer. Except it wasn't. It was how much we push nature to the brink of our concrete worlds; how little respect for life we've come to expect from other people we encounter.

The lack of empathy.

But sometimes, I am not so disheartened.

My nephew cried once at the idea of killing a spider hiding in the corner behind his toys. So I showed him how to catch it with a cup and piece of paper and release it outside.

I hope he never loses sight of that empathy and care for other living things. I hope that the world won't bend him into a shape that doesn't allow that kind of light to penetrate his layers.