On watch for leaping deer
The stressful part of the day is finally over. Now I just have to decide which part of the day gave the most. Was it the hours of travel through qusi darkness on road that might have been filled with romping deer? Or was it the hours of meeting total strangers at a stressful moment in anyone’s life? I’m perhaps reacting to a combo.
Let’s look at the travel time. All along the route to the south of here, signs wanr that there are deer, lurking. Ready to bound across the trajectory of fast moving cars in a kamikaze attempt to join the ranks of roadkill. I don’t see may corpses (perhaps they’ve been harvested by hunters with heavy iron). Even few wrecks.Still you have to remain attentive; watching the road shoulders for a glimpse of a reflective eye or a tail flag. We spent close to four hours on the road, and we’re home, safe. A good thing.
In juxtaposition, an even longer time spent in a receiving line, in a funeral parlour. I knew almost none of those coming through. No matter. I was dressed for the task, complete. With a tie and my best Windsor knot. Still, shaking hands is not something I do by volition. I’m not a politician. After tomorrow, my fond hope is that I won’t have to do anything similar for a long time to come. Tomorrow, I’m bringing the kids along. Let them learn with me, rather than from me. We should have numerical superiority, and as the fog of war fades, we can go home, along that same deer infested road.
