R.I.P Squirrel

Personal Essay May 14, 2011

“I saw a squirrel get hit by a truck”

While walking the dogs along the street that runs through our subdivision, I saw (and heard) a squirrel get hit by a truck. The driver no did not stop, or even slow down. The old man seemed in a hurry to get to where he was going.

I heard the Thump; and saw the final shake, as the tail twitched back and forth. Cars zoomed by. Though now a carcass, I did not want another to hit it. They missed as they hurried up the lane.

I looked around. Trees were in full bloom. All bedecked in green, as squirrels and birds lived among their branches. Flowers and grasses marked the path ahead. All was alive.

I stopped to take it in as my dogs were panting; waiting patiently for me to move.

Such is life. But a death too early is not a happy thing.

I thought of the Native Americans’ view that everything has a spirit. Father Sky, I’ve heard them say. Something in that way of thinking brought peace.

Everything is Spirit. The Imago Dei, image of God.

As I continued my walk, nature seemed to echo this statement. Wind rustled through the green canopy above. A squirrel on a nearby tree stopped mid-climb to stare at me, the human stranger. My dogs’ tails swayed happily back and forth.
Life continues on.

Rest well little squirrel. Your spirit moves on.