Running

Running

Jessica watched Ben board the yellow school bus that spring morning; he was so happy, so carefree. She wanted to cry. She grabbed her sneakers.  She stepped outside and noticed Heather with Charlie, her slap-happy golden retriever, walking just past her mailbox. She called out “Good Morning!” as she ran past them, but did not stop to chat.

She ran past the park, past blooming yellow daffodils, as tears gathered in her eyes.  It is unfair, unreal! My Dave!   She reached the pond, and turned left, heading for the hill. A triathlete, how could his kidneys fail? How? Why? Dialysis – hospitals – organ donation – blood types – wait lists. He is not supposed to be a part of that world! What if? What if we can’t find a living donor? What then, how long can he... wait? She ran faster, focusing on the rhythm of her breath.

She reached the bottom of the hill and continued onward. With each step she labored up the steep, unforgiving incline.  I can’t lose him!  Ben needs him!  I need him!  She picked up speed and broke into a sprint.  Her heart was drumming in her chest.  Her lungs screamed for air. 

But then, as if by instinct, that deep rooted fragment of our ancestral survival code, she felt someone or something watching her.  There it was. . . A tall, brown animal stood perfectly still, looking at her. A DOG! She came to an abrupt stop, barely keeping her balance.  Breathless, exhausted, cornered; she froze.

Then blissful comprehension, she blinked twice, this was no dog. A doe!  She took a few cautious steps forward.  The doe did not stir and allowed her to approach.  She stopped and watched a fawn join its mother. They stood there, motionless.  Two mothers, their eyes locked.  Then the doe took off into the trees, and the fawn followed. She stood alone.