You Can’t See Me… – Photo: L. Weikel
Sedentary Sunday
The arrival of summer temperatures this weekend (it feels too early to me to be hitting 90 degrees, but what do I know?) persuaded me to indulge in a delightfully sedentary Sunday reading and studying on my porch.
Every time I consciously spend several hours away from electronics, I start thinking about how different life was in the not-too-distant past. I know I’ve read a million articles about how addicted we all are to our devices and yet I still check the headlines somewhat compulsively. (I actually chalk that up more to the trauma of the past four years than simple devotion to my laptop or cellphone.) Nevertheless, I’m starting to entertain thoughts of a shift this summer.
We’ll see.
My Real Message
The message I actually wanted to convey this evening has to do with an encounter I had on my walk this evening. Spartacus and I were ambling along the side of the road, taking in the way the sky was being painted by the setting sun.
A car approached us and I did as I try to do as often as possible, which is getting both the pup and myself entirely off the roadway. Most people smile and wave. Some obviously figure, “What the heck,” and floor it. Many are respectful and seem to appreciate that I’m trying to minimize risk for all of us. Yet I’m always a little bit concerned when someone slows down.
Yes, it could be someone I know. But even most of the people I know or recognize from working the polls or simply from living here all these decades don’t stop. They wave and smile.
So I was just a scootch concerned when the compact, navy blue SUV slowed to a stop and the passenger side window whizzed down to reveal the 50-something driver. Her short hair was dark brown and wavy, and it framed her friendly, smiling face. I wondered, “Ugh, darn it. Should I know her?”
To be honest, she did act as though she knew me – and I’m pretty confident we’ve never met. But! What she said next just made my day.
Never Hold Back
“I just had to tell you,” she said immediately upon lowering her window. “I saw my first fawn of the season today!”
Delight was written all over her face and quite powerfully washed over me as she filled me in on the details. She described where she works (a special needs care facility that’s close by and situated in a setting surrounded by nature) and detailed how she’d been greeted by a Mama Doe and her quite fresh newborn standing in the driveway only minutes earlier. She marveled at how the fawn was actually nursing right in front of her – smack in the middle of the driveway – and how neither Mama nor Baby were at all afraid of including her in their moment.
The driver joked that perhaps Mama Doe was making a peace offering because she was pretty sure Mama may have been the same deer that jumped in front of her car on her way into work today. Perhaps presenting her fawn was Mama’s apology and excuse for nearly killing the driver earlier.
Joy Is Catching
The very best part of this entire encounter (beyond imagining the utter adorableness of the newborn fawn) was the spontaneity with which this driver chose to share the unmistakable joy it brought her – and best of all – how she chose to share it with me!
I don’t know which made me grin more: the idea of the Mama presenting her nursing fawn to this woman (and the delight with which this gift was received) or that this woman somehow recognized a kindred spirit in me enough to share her news. I was simply walking along this country road at dusk and my evening was turned into an experience of sharing Nature’s magic and love.
Sharing her joy was a spontaneous act of courage. Next time any of us are tempted to do the same, I hope we don’t hesitate or hold back. We just might change the trajectory of someone’s day (or even more).
(T-187)