Things Happen Fast - May 3 2021

 

Things Happen Fast

May 3 2021

Things happen fast.

You lose track of speed.

Or you find yourself distracted

by that hot cup of coffee

spilling on your lap,

a hand

straying from the wheel

and feeling for the screen.

When the deer froze

a rabbit darted out

the black ice surprised you,

the truck veered across the line

out of oncoming traffic.

When that extra half second

of hesitation

determined the rest of your life.

Or when, out of nowhere

this small dark shape

appeared in your lane,

and before you could brake

there was a dull heavy thud

and time stopped.

When you became

the negligent driver

the world would learn to hate.

And there was a child

who looked perfect in every way

except for the fixed glassy eyes

and uncanny stillness.

Driving

had become second nature,

like tying your shoes

or climbing the stairs.

You did it every day

almost reflexively,

driving

on autopilot

as a simple means of getting there

then coming back again.

From one second to the next

lives change,

begin and end

are tried and tested.

The time before

the fateful after.

Or, in another life

you left a minute late,

and the road was clear

the day went on

you went about your business.

And never thought

to take a moment to be thankful

for the humdrum everyday.

As I was reading this piece in today's Atlantic, I thought about the near misses I've had: when what would have been an inconsequential sliver of time could have become the impervious boundary between life before and life after. No one wants such a before and after moment.

In the practice of intentional gratitude, the well of bad things that didn't happen is infinitely deep. So maybe it's cheating to reflect on such hypotheticals, to use them to gin up thankfulness. But it's not cheating when one of them comes that close to materializing.

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/05/car-accident/618766/