I know this post is undoubtedly going to give incredibly accurate insight as to the strange person i am, but so be it…
Today I went out to do some errands in the city. I live about half an hour outside the nearest city limits, so you can understand that it really isn’t an unusual occurrence to see deer running around. I was a couple of minutes away from my house when I noticed that there was another car pulled over with their hazard lights on, but it didn’t look like they were having car troubles. It just looked like they were waiting for something. As I drove closer, I saw a beautiful doe laying in front of their car.
They had obviously just hit her moments before and they were waiting for assistance. It is actually against the law here to kill an animal like that and drive off and leave it. You have to give a report and professionals have to dispose of the animal’s body. So here were these people waiting for assistance…and in the meantime, there was the doe. She was still alive, her legs broken. As I drove past she looked frightened and tried to stand up, but couldn’t. I’m not even completely sure why, but that was one of the saddest things I think I have seen. I just thought to myself that, if I were someone who owned my own firearm, I would gladly pay the fine for killing that animal so that it wouldn’t sit there suffering–put it out of its misery. But at the same time, part of me definitely questioned whether I would be able to do that if I found myself in that position. Could I really end the life of a beautiful animal like that? Granted, it would have died anyways, but maybe not at my hands.
Anyways…to the point. Being the poetical sap that I am, I immediately thought of this poem I read during my first semester of college:
“Traveling through the dark I found a deer dead on the edge of Wilson River Road. It is usually best to roll them into the canyon: the road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead. By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing; she had stiffened already, almost cold. I dragged her off; she was large in the belly. My fingers touching her side brought me the reason–her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting, alive, still, never to be born. Beside that mountain road I hesitated. The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights; under the hood purred the steady engine. I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red; around our group I could hear the wilderness listen. I thought hard for all of us–my only swerving–then pushed her over the edge into the river.”
I’m fairly certain that I have alluded before to the recent falling out I had with my college roommates, although not in detail. I am not going to harp on about everything that happened, but I’ll just say it was ugly and therapists and campus counseling and wellness got involved and everything ended on cold and bitter notes.
So last night I had a dream about one of them. I don’t usually remember my dreams but I am not likely to forget this one…
It was Christmas time and everyone was all dressed up and we were in one of the classrooms at my old high school, for some strange reason. I found myself sitting next to one of my ex roommates. I knew everyone else in the room but I was her only connection. Somebody was wandering around taking pictures of everyone, so when they came back to us I said I would take a picture with her. She just looked so happy and we hugged and told each other how much we had missed each other and how sorry we both were for everything that had happened.
That actually made me really sad. As time goes by, I find that there are days every once in a while when I just miss them. I truly thought I had made friends that I could keep forever. We spent almost two years laughing ourselves silly together, talking late at night, doing each other’s hair and makeup and going everywhere together. I miss all of that. And I wish I could tell them that.But then I remember that, based on their most recent past behavior, they probably wouldn’t care. And that hurts. I find myself wondering if things could have gone differently. I try and think back to every small scenario and try to see if there was any way I could have said or done anything different, I wonder if it even would have really mattered.
Odds are that these people who I shared so much with over that short space of time–we probably won’t really see each other again. And even if I can’t change the past, I just wish that there was some small way that I could let them know that I bear them no ill will–that I wish them all the very best and that I’m thankful for all the good times we had together. But I think that ship sailed a long time ago now and that makes me sad.
I won’t deny that I’m selfish enough to wonder if they ever think about me and all the fun we used to have. Or whether they only think ill of me after our falling out….or if they ever think of me at all.
Because that’s what hurts the most when someone just lets go of you like that, as if it was the easiest thing in the world–the thought that, despite the promises you made and the things you shared, they didn’t think you were worth keeping or fighting for.