The Goddess on the Side of the Road

She sits on the side of the road, not lost or worn. She intends to be there. A raccoon waits on the side of the road, too. They are not together. In fact, her presence does not concern the raccoon as it might concern a human.

She watches the raccoon in melancholic amusement, appreciating the creature’s unique raccoon-ness.

Cars zoom by, but this is normal. Wilderness and trees expand from either side. Civilization takes what it wants and cuts through like a splinter.

The raccoon knows nothing of this injustice. Life always included this road. Little heart racing, the raccoon makes ready. It braved the road before, though it avoided the roaring black river as much as possible.

Something on the other side enticed the raccoon to cross. More scavenging, maybe? The water was closer, perhaps? Or other raccoons with whom to mingle? Any of the innumerable convincing raccoon reasons made crossing necessary.

She watched as the raccoon paced. So close to the ground, the little creature could not see any great distance. It waited for cars to zoom by and judged the gaps as best it could.

“You can do it,” she whispered under her breath.

He made a couple of false starts. He darted forward, stood on his hind legs to see, and then darted back as a car raced by. He had to commit, and eventually, he did.

A loud screech rent the forest, and time froze.

With a sigh, she hopped down from her perch on the side of the road. She walked to where the raccoon stood stunned in the middle of the asphalt. The car stopped directly in front of him. His little heart pounded in fear.

“You didn’t quite make it, bud,” she told him.

His nose twitched as he looked from her to the car and back.

“Let me help you,” she said.

She reached down, and he eagerly held his paws. Something bad had happened, he knew, so he welcomed her comfort. She lifted him into her arms, and he cuddled into her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said as she patted his head. “You don’t need to be here for the rest of it.”

As she carried him away, his heart calmed. He remembered his den, his mate, and kits. He felt at home.

She walked him to the other side of the road before setting him back down. By then, he’d entirely forgotten his fear. He turned and considered another road crossing.

She rolled her eyes and tapped his rump with her foot. Thus prompted, the raccoon shuffled off into the woods. He smelled his mother somewhere in this forest. It had been years since he’d seen her last, but he remembered her scent. This, he decided, was a good side of the road to be on.

Behind the raccoon, time resumed. Things happened, but they weren’t important anymore.

“I’m glad you made it to the other side,” the woman said, a joke the goddess on the side of the road had constant cause to make.