Yes, that’s what happened. The tree-hugging, vegetarian hippy made a huge mess of her almost-getting-it-together life because a wee red fox stepped into the road. I know, I know… next time hit the fox. I’ve heard it again and again but do you know what? I am thrilled the fox lived… a luxury, of course, that I can afford because my 15-year-old son, 13-year-old daughter, and I are safe and sound. If that was not the case, I’m certain it would be harder.
Someone said, “Foxes can be replaced,” and I strongly disagree. It’s not my place to say that my beloved Volkswagon Jetta was more important than that fox. Even with that, to say I decided to not hit the fox would be a lie. My reaction was primal, as if my son’s toddler self had stepped into my path. I did not decide. It all just happened. I hit the brakes and the car slid left into oncoming traffic, then right to the shoulder, back into traffic, and then back across my lane and the shoulder and flew off into the darkness.
The darkness. After the firefighters helped us climb out of the darkness, I realized I’d left my phone behind. She wrote back…
Thank you sweet baby. I’ll call in a minute.
Are you home?
Can you please call me as soon as you can?
I’m in the library. I don’t know if you’ll get your phone or not, but I’ll be really glad to hear from you. Will someone come for you? I can send people…
When they helped us back up the hill and into the ambulance, I realized I’d left the phone behind. “I… my wife… I need to call…” Without pause, the man assessing our injuries handed me his phone. “Borrowed phone… we’re okay… in ambulance… I’ll call when they get the car out and I can get the phone… I promise, we’re okay… I love you.”