Doe, A Deer

The time was around 8:30 p.m. on a Friday, the seasonal shift in temperature well underway outside my car as fall made its debut. Night had fallen on this flat, straight stretch of Route 30 across northern Indiana. Field upon field flanked each side of this east-west connector, as did several farmsteads, many of which were only visible by distant dots of light.

I have traveled this route multiple times on trips to see my parents in the northwest portion of the Hoosier State, as well as when our family lived in Fort Wayne during my teen years. Because of these treks, I know that this roadway enjoys a fairly substantial grassy median between the lanes heading east and those heading west. I also know that caffeine can be a much needed friend along for the ride.

With Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library coming through CarPlay, and the cruise control set to 60, I had settled into my little zone within the west-bound side of the highway, scanning the environment on occasion yet also fully ensconced in following Nora Seed’s latest attempt to erase a regret and slide into another life in this best-selling book.

But then reality hit, and my own life flashed before my eyes.

Out of nowhere, a huge deer suddenly appeared in full view, so close that it filled the entire width of the front of my vehicle. Having run at apparently full speed across the two eastbound lanes into the wide grassy median and now into the right westbound lanes, the deer, still in motion, yet appearing motionless in that moment in my mind, actually turned its head and looked directly at me mid-bounce, its eyes reflecting in my headlights so vividly that its irises appeared bright green.

Doing the complete opposite of what safety experts always advise, I screamed, instinctively hit the brakes, and moved slightly to the left. And apparently, that little move, by God’s grace, allowed the deer to continue at its swift pace toward its destination in the nearby field. My car never touched it, not even a hair, and no other cars were around to cause an additional accident. Instead, my shaking body, racing heart, and my refrain of “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus” accompanied me for several miles afterward on this desolate stretch.

Even now, as fall turns to winter, I can still see that deer’s eyes and its head cocked in such a way as to almost be communicating as it ran. Each time that image comes to mind, I am reminded how quickly life can change “on a dime,” “in a heartbeat,” or “in the blink of an eye.” Whatever phrase one prefers, the sentiment remains the same – life abruptly can shift with no time to think, process, or find one’s breath.

As I look back on this incident, I find it interesting that moments before, I had heard Mrs. Elm, a pivotal character in Midnight Library, tell Nora Seed that: “As Thoreau wrote, ‘It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” I looked straight at a deer, yes, but as jarring as it was, what I now see is a call to slow down in life, really slow down. I am sure many of us have moments that make us pause and reassess, but this deer was almost in my face, so it seems it needed to get my attention in a very big way. And it surely did.

Months have passed since that encounter, and I find myself more grateful for the little things. I try to offer that extra hug to friends and loved ones. I write more notes of thanks or text simple hellos to others. I make time to take that extra walk along any water’s edge, and I look for the special spots to pull off the road to snag a snapshot or two during my drives.

I am also heeding one more wonderful line from dear Mrs. Elm in The Midnight Library as I keep trying to figure everything out: “You don’t have to understand life. You just have to live it.”