This morning’s drive

So, I was alert and awake for most of the drive.  And, as I mentioned, alone.  19 merged smoothly into 400; 400 quickly dumped me down to 369, where I’d later pick up 20.  Every now and again a semi truck would pass me, reminding me to dim my brights (I was on two laned roads through the country), or a beat up old truck would do 40 in front of me (speed limit being 55). Legal little fool I am, I waited for the dotted line in the middle of the road to pass even though I swear we were the only two awake for miles. 

I passed through sleepy little towns and gas stations starting to wake up.   There were patches of fleeting fog that was so thick you could almost feel the cool moisture of it even inside the air-conditioned car.  It was beautiful, quiet, naked really.  And I felt raw.  Vulnerable and raw.  Peaceful and beautiful and mysterious and raw. 

Which is probably why I came upon something that I cannot get out of my mind and still makes me want to cry.   There, in the middle of my side of the road was an animal — an animal with his head stuck in a can.  He was flopping around, struggling in fear or confusion, seemingly unhurt but just stuck in a can.  I stopped my car in plenty of time (surely I’d have run over it, hadn’t it been for my headlights, super bright in this dark early morning) but could do nothing.  Nothing but sit and watch.    

I had no idea what to do.  I couldn’t even tell what kind of animal it was.   Was it a cat?  A possum?  Something else?  I didn’t know.  Domesticated, wild, healthy, diseased?  I don’t know. I felt so helpless, still feel helpless thinking about it!  This poor thing was scrambling around my side of the road, head stuck shoulder deep into what looked like a vegetable can.  There was no sound, no light, no movement from anywhere else around him.  Even I was quiet, having silenced the podcast I had just been listening to prior.  It was just the light fog, the shining lights, and the poor animal flipping around in them as if in twin spotlights.  I tried honking, but it didn’t even seem to hear (what with his head stuck up in a can and all).  I wanted to help so so badly but there was no one but me.  No one but me, that poor little guy, and miles of darkness and road.  I was afraid of getting attacked, of it being something wild or diseased.  I was afraid and uncertain and over the top…. sad.  Because I couldn’t do anything but use the other lane…to drive by. 

And it hit me.  That animal?  It’s how I feel today, how I’ve been feeling for a little while now in any case:  like my head is stuck up in a can, not knowing which way to turn.  So I’m turning every which way in a panic or perhaps just confusion, not being able to communicate effectively or probably even really breathe (what with a head stuck up a can and all) and mostly just waiting for someone to come and help me get the damn thing off….or at the very least push me out of the road to buy me more time.