My house is on a hill. Near the top of a hill. In fact, my neighborhood is known as "the hills" of my town, and all the real estate is laughingly overpriced. If we sold our house today, we'd be laughing all the way to the bank. Big bankrolls of bellylaughs.There are a lot of trees and a lot of spiders around here. And critters. We get racoons, opossoms, squirrels, and many families of deer.
This morning I was sitting in my home office, which overlooks the hill. A family of deer cautiously tiptoed up the asphalt -- a mom followed by two babies. My first thought was, "I hope they make it across the street OK." I realized that I was holding my breath, watching them cross. Cars often fly down this hill. One day I know I'm going to hear a screech followed by a sickening thud. But not today. Today they made it across. I felt the tension melt from my body as I exhaled a sigh of relief.
And I realized...in our hearts, I think people are basically good. We don't want to see a baby deer splattered across someone's windshield at 10 a.m. Someplace here in these hills a baby deer lives another day to come back to my house and eat my rockroses. And when he does, I'll curse him. But not with so much gall as to wish him a hood ornament. Somehow, that realization gives me hope.
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