The roads are still nice and clear, but the snow continues. I head for work, sad to see the barren fields half brown, half white, the abandoned corn stalks fluttering slightly in the breeze, as if wishing for a scarf to shelter them from the wind.
Suddenly, red tail lights glare ahead of me. Cars slow, then swerve. I creep cautiously forward, craning my neck to see what is going on. To the side of the road, a bright yellow Jeep, lights blinking, front fender dented in. In the center of the road, a dead deer sprawls across the center line, legs bent at awkward angles.
Traffic from both directions must wend their path around the fresh destruction. I am solemn as I gaze at the open eye of the lifeless carcass, hoping the poor thing was not caring for young ones. The driver in the Jeep is on his cell phone as I crawl past. A moment sooner, and it could have been me. I am thankful it was not.
By noon when I head home for lunch it will all be cleared away. Such is the way we handle death. Get it out of sight as quickly as possible. Fix the fender. Pretend it never happened. Get on with life.
Still, it is a loss. I can't help being sad. I will try to be more aware of our furred friends and not just barrel merrily along. Slow down a bit. Take time. Look out for others. Yes. Be gentler. I could stand to pay more attention.
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