Thursday, November 20, 2014
About Last Night
Blue and red lights made a painting of my windshield. The night was cold, clear, quiet. The car warm and lively. "Boys," I observed, "Police." They didn't hear me so I looked on alone. There was a police car in the right lane, and another car in front of it, but ahead of them both my headlights illuminated the face of a buck, looking alert but afraid. His legs crumpled beneath him, he was just sitting. Something wrong with a buck sitting. Something wrong with a buck sitting in the middle of a busy road. His head and chest were stretched tall and proud, but as clear as the night was the fact that he would never be standing up. I knew it. He did, too. We locked eyes for a moment, a moment containing infinite time and infinite wisdom. I was wrecked. Oblivious, my boys chattered on in the back seat.