Dear Mr. Squirrel

the light, the color – absolutely brilliant and glorious this morning.   perfect, actually.   trees, rolling hills, empty roads.   one of the best parts of Sunday morning drives to work.

and then I see him, scurrying about with his bushy tale and grey coat – a delightful addition to the morning – until he can’t decide  which way to run as I approach.  We dance a little, but I don’t have much swerving room.   And he – he’s so little in a very big world.

In my rearview mirror, I see him lying there in the wake.   We’d almost made it but apparently he did not.

I stared – stunned and completely devastated that I had personally contributed to road kill.    I had personally killed this little animal with my car.

Horrible.   The whole thing was… is horrible.

But that’s this world, isn’t it?  brilliant color coexists with dull greys; light shadowed by darkness; life filled with death; and beauty wrapped with ugly realities.

And truth is, even on our best day, we all leave roadkill in some way, shape or form.  Maybe that’s why this time of year is so profound to me because it places our roadkill in a larger story of color, light, life and beauty.    No matter what, you can’t get away from the color, the light, the beauty…

Even still though, Mr. Squirrel is still dead on the road.   It doesn’t change that.  Nor does it change that I’m still pretty sad about the whole thing.   But it does keep life real.   It does necessitate the ability  to coexist with both the good things and the hard things in this world.  And it does remind me that I contribute to both.

Dear Mr. Squirrel, this morning, I am humbled.  I’m sorry we didn’t co-exist better.