The road was a slick black snake before me; its brilliance challenging the glistening three-quarter-moon above. I was alone and weary from the week and the day itself; my mind a marathon of worry and deep contemplation. The road wound on, littered with glaring orange, green, and off-white sawhorses and triangular signs. I scanned for moose, my eyes straining to see beyond the borders of the road and the unknowns scattered about in fields I could not see. I tightened my hold on the steering wheel and leaned as close to the windshield as possible. “Dear God,” I prayed. “Please keep the moose off the road. And the deer!” I swept back a stray lock of hair and blinked to refresh my strained eyes. Nighttime had transformed the road into a maze of tight confusion and I could not wait to make that right hand turn into my own driveway.
Thirty years ago, I had been much braver than the woman who now cringed behind the wheel of my car. I was funnier and faster then. I would have been listening to Def Leppard and hitting an 800 pound moose would have been the last thing on my mind. Rather than going home, my destination would have been a much more active and intriguing place.
The headlights of my Impala swooped down suddenly upon a tiny field mouse, his quick little feet barely skimming the top of the road as he ran for his life. I screeched and nearly hit a fluorescent orange cone as the little creature shot into the darkness, still intact. My hands now shaking, I turned into the parking lot of the Sacred Heart Church and placed my car in “park.” I shut the engine off, leaned back in my seat, and rolled the window halfway down.
Dale and I had gotten married at this church 18 years ago on June 30, 1995. The day had been wedding-perfect. My mother, dressed in a cream and teal dress, had stolen the show as we made our trek down the aisle together. I wanted nothing more that day than to watch her shine as only she could. Nearly three years after that day, we said good-bye to my mom as she lay fighting for her life in a hospital bed at The Aroostook Medical Center and I have never been the same.
It was late. Regardless of the moose, deer, and field mice lurking beyond the reflective light, I had to continue home. I drove the car ahead, stopping directly in front of the massive double entrance doors of the church and I whispered thanks for all of the blessings in my life. My husband, Dale. My sister, Lisa. My mother-in-law. My aunts, uncles, cousins, beloved friends, safe home, great job, and of course, my Goldendoodle, Barney.
“And one more thing, God.” My voice sounded clear in the pure night. “Thank you for bright headlights, fast reflexes, quick little mice, and my life.” And with that, I drove home.
Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives Connor TWP with her husband Dale and their Goldendoodle Barney. They are currently working on building a home in Caribou. You may contact Belinda online at: dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
