Crossing without Permission

I came across this old journal entry today and felt the need to share it. 

Take what you will...

March 8, 2010

Today as I drove home from picking my precious Claire up from Daycare, I saw, for the first time, an animal dying.  A small mallard duck like the kind that swim in our idyllic little pond at our condo, was gravely injured and trying with all its might to cross a busy road to get to safety on the grass on the other side. With every movement he made trying to traverse bustling Trabuco Street, feathers fell out of him in a panic and with defeat. It was apparent that one or more of his limbs were no longer functioning and his head was down toward the ground the entire time. He could not look up and see what was coming toward him, only where he was going if he continued to go down. 

What was less upsetting and more touching was the companion duck that began to cross the street in this duck’s trail. It was trying to evade traffic on the busy road to save its companion, all the while not being hit by cars.

I physically stopped my bright red Barbie car in the middle of this road, not caring what traffic violations would occur or how I might inconvenience other people. I stopped. I stopped. I stopped.

I stopped because I was sad.

I stopped because I had never seen someone so helpless die in front of my eyes.

I stopped because I didn’t want to be responsible for killing it.

I stopped because I was contemplating if it was my duty to kill it.

As I watched the heart-and-wing-broken pair attempt to cross to safety, I delicately drove around the situation and continued toward home with my precious baby girl in the back seat. I was upset and I don’t want to shield her from that, but I don’t want her to have to see animals that are hurting yet. It is too soon; yet, another reason I decided I should not kill the duck with the power of my car in a merciful attempt to set him free.

We drove farther down the road and I delicately watched the frenetic scene in my rearview mirrror come to a stop…. A final stop. The stop that happens on its own terms, regardless of location, time of day, or audience. This small, defenseless little bird laid its broken neck on the asphalt and that’s where it would leave its body while it ventured to where I am so hopeful there is more.

I don’t know what type of connection animals truly have, but I give them the benefit of the doubt that they are more connected than we believe. I feel bad for his friend, or mate, or brother, that tried to help save him but couldn’t. I hope that because he’s an animal he doesn’t have a sense of object constancy and he’ll simply reproduce that aspect of his life and fly away and move on.

But all I know, is that I grieved that anonymous, ill-placed wild bird today, and my daughter and I gave it pause en route to our family home where we tell each other we love each other, we learn to do new tricks, we build each other’s self-esteem, we tell each other that we are pretty and kind and that we will do anything for each other.  We will love each other forever. No matter what.

Claire is invaluable to me - she is beautiful, and she is real. I am proud that I have been able to accept her as real and sincerely allow myself to embrace it and enjoy it, instead of stepping out of it like the 3^rd person (reference - Elliott’s death…)

I am grateful and must learn to embrace the feeling of safety like a warm blanket when I am freezing with worry.