Imagined crises populate my mental meanderings these days, but I’m also inclined to wield my imagination to find hopefulness.
Out on my bike, social-distantly escaping into the wider world, I came upon this ever-sobering scene the other day. Every town has one, a roadside memorial to a lost young soul. I never pass this place without thinking of Susan. Here on this site, a life slipped away from its vital young frame on the side of a roadway. A tragic accident, never to be undone.
My children grieved, the community was in shock. And yet, it seems that every spring it happens – someone drives distracted, overstimulated, intoxicated, or just overjoyed as spring opens its promising arms to celebratory teenagers, emerging from winter hibernation. Are there teens whose lives have been spared because of quarantine? We’ll never know, but I like to imagine so.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 283: 143 words, TOTAL = 47,465; 12,535 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families.