This is the sort of thing that drives my sister crazy about me. Her husband, kids and I took a walk to give her time to talk to our Spanish friend Marta, and we came upon a small family who were looking intently and worriedly at something on the ground.

Their mom explained that they had found a squirrel who was paralyzed from the waist down, and that they didn’t know what to do. Jay pointed out that the squirrel was going to starve to death and we should go get a shovel (which I don’t have). Meanwhile, I’m watching how scared the poor thing is, and he’s dragging himself away to die. The look in his eyes as he watched us is what will get me.

This was hours ago, and I am still so blue about it – not so much the death, death is part of life, but the suffering he clearly experienced before that, and that there was nothing I could do about it. The squirrel, by the way, has passed on since then – I had to drive by on our way back from downtown and he was clearly an ex-squirrel.

It will make me sad for a long time – I know that, and I wish I could just brush off things like that as other people do. I hit a chipmunk years ago, and I have to not think about it, especially late at night.


Maggie, on the other hand, when I said I needed to think about something else so that I didn’t stay blue, thoughtfully started a conversation about why people want to put graffiti on things. It was an interesting conversation with someone who is just starting to grow up, and who comes from a suburb that doesn’t see much graffiti. Glad to have had the chance to talk to her about it.

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