Pamela Vanden Bos

    

Blinding headlights, glaring taillights, and the pelting rain create hazardous road conditions. I cautiously maneuver my minivan down the slippery dark highway known as ‘Bloody 98’. 

I reach out to turn the radio off. I must focus on the yellow and white lane-lines. 

A drenched gray and black critter with a long nose sniffing the ground, darts into the road. He reaches the solid gold centerline before I do. Whew! That was close. Thank God, I missed hitting him. 

Without warning, the little guy pulls a ‘u’ turn and backtracks directly in front of my left front tire. 

My mind slows down to grapple all my options.

 If I brake, I will be rear-ended by the car behind me. 

Swerve left…head on collision. 

Steer right…possible gator hiding in the overflowing gully. 

I clench the steering wheel. 

Prepare for impact! 

Clunk-clunk 

The contact stuns me. It felt like I drove over a speed bump going sixty miles per hour. I had no idea that I had the ability to kill in my blood. 

Clunk-clunk echoes in my mind. 

The thing is…I’ve been known to stop my car in the middle of a county road just to fetch a turtle and gently carry it to safety. I will abruptly come to a screeching halt for squirrels, bunny rabbits and deer because I choose to save and protect God’s animals. 

However, don’t get me wrong, I will seek and destroy houseflies and I do poison roaches and roof rats. (Ugh.) 

For the next three hours, I wrestle with the guilt.  What if the animal did not die instantly, did it suffer or what if she had babies?  Hey, it could have been worse. It could have been a skunk. Gross. 

I refuse to cry, it was the little guy or me. This time I protected my life but the clunk-clunk is haunting me. 

Honestly, it was an accident. I got off lucky. No one was hurt except for…clunk clunk.