Karma
When I was 8 months pregnant, I was on my way home from a family function with my brother and his fiancee, when we spotted a giant turtle trying to cross 4 lanes of traffic in a 50 mile an hour zone. I pleaded with my brother to turn around, to save the turtle, and he said "that's the cutest thing I've ever heard" and turned the car around. He pulled onto the shoulder of the road, and I stood on the side of the road as the turtle pointedly and doggedly continued to make his way across. I waited for traffic to clear, saw my opening as a last car was coming, and as I made my move mentally, that last car took the life of the biggest land turtle I've ever seen in suburban Chicago.
Horrified and not willing to leave it there, I stared open mouthed. The motorist behind the turtle murdered stopped, a hero in a nice suit, who ran out into the road and carried the cracked turtle to the side of the road for the sobbing pregnant girl with no more than an "I'm sorry. I really am". And he drove off. I looked one last time at the turtle, whose shell was the length of my laptop, not believing, not wanting to leave him there in the grassy ditch, the ditch he was trying so hard to leave behind as he worked his way across a heartless, suburban road. But he was motionless, and I didn't believe he could live, and we left with heavy hearts and a hate for the turtle murderer who didn't stop, didn't swerve, and without a doubt saw that boulder of a turtle trying so hard to cross the road.
I spent that evening online, torturing myself with the information about turtles versus cars. Did you know that a turtle could survive the impact of a car at 50 miles and hour and a terribly cracked shell? Me neither. So I got in my car as the sun was setting and drove 30 miles back to the ditch where we laid the turtle, parked the car, and walked up and down the road. But there was no turtle. No where. I looked everywhere, in the drainage pipes, up against the fences, everywhere, but he was nowhere. To this day, I do not know if he walked away, only to die a painful death weeks later, or if a good samaritan walking along rescued him, or if he became a poor family's dinner. I will never know, and to this day that turtle haunts me, and I still look for him along that stretch of road no matter what.
Last year we moved to a new neighborhood. We had looked for over a year for the perfect area, the right fit for us. And the day we went to do the walk through on our house, a car stopped in front of us in the middle of the street, and a teenage girl ran out in front of her car. My heart lifted as she bolted to the side of the street, a turtle held high above her head, safe from the wheels of careless suburbanites. My eyes welled up with tears. I knew we were home.
Since we've moved to our neighborhood, I've had the pleasure of rescuing 4 turtles, 3 of which I rescued from the middle of the road just this past week. The first turtle tried to make it's way through our yard, not knowing or not caring that it had four extremely turtle-curious dogs in it. That one was a fun and easy save. The next two were picked up out of the middle of our neighborhood streets, their meandering little bodies not really that far off track, but still in danger of being crushed. I ran them to the backs of the nearest yards, far enough from the street that I knew they'd be ok. Easy turtle saves.
The last one was yesterday. Evan and I were driving home from preschool, and we decided to take a route we didn't normally take home. It was a 40 mile per hour zone, and there, in a right hand turn lane, was a turtle, slowly making its way across the road. I screamed "another turtle!" and pulled a u-turn so fast, Evan yelled, "Mom! You're driving like a cwazy lady!" I parked the car and ran out into the middle of the street in my flip flops, not waiting, not pausing for the car that was making its way up the hill. Karma had caught up with me, and I wasn't going to let it pass me by. I could almost imagine the car's driver thinking "WTF????", but I grabbed that turtle and held it up so the driver could see me, and dodged across the street to set the turtle down safely. I waited for traffic to part, and then ran back to the car, triumphant.
Evan said, "Mommy, did we save him??" Yes, buddy, we did. Whether I'm cursed to rescue turtles for the rest of my life to make up for the one 100 year old turtle I wasn't able to save, or whether I'm blessed with the same task, I'll take it. I'll still look for that turtle every time I drive down that fateful stretch of road. I always will.
Horrified and not willing to leave it there, I stared open mouthed. The motorist behind the turtle murdered stopped, a hero in a nice suit, who ran out into the road and carried the cracked turtle to the side of the road for the sobbing pregnant girl with no more than an "I'm sorry. I really am". And he drove off. I looked one last time at the turtle, whose shell was the length of my laptop, not believing, not wanting to leave him there in the grassy ditch, the ditch he was trying so hard to leave behind as he worked his way across a heartless, suburban road. But he was motionless, and I didn't believe he could live, and we left with heavy hearts and a hate for the turtle murderer who didn't stop, didn't swerve, and without a doubt saw that boulder of a turtle trying so hard to cross the road.
I spent that evening online, torturing myself with the information about turtles versus cars. Did you know that a turtle could survive the impact of a car at 50 miles and hour and a terribly cracked shell? Me neither. So I got in my car as the sun was setting and drove 30 miles back to the ditch where we laid the turtle, parked the car, and walked up and down the road. But there was no turtle. No where. I looked everywhere, in the drainage pipes, up against the fences, everywhere, but he was nowhere. To this day, I do not know if he walked away, only to die a painful death weeks later, or if a good samaritan walking along rescued him, or if he became a poor family's dinner. I will never know, and to this day that turtle haunts me, and I still look for him along that stretch of road no matter what.
Last year we moved to a new neighborhood. We had looked for over a year for the perfect area, the right fit for us. And the day we went to do the walk through on our house, a car stopped in front of us in the middle of the street, and a teenage girl ran out in front of her car. My heart lifted as she bolted to the side of the street, a turtle held high above her head, safe from the wheels of careless suburbanites. My eyes welled up with tears. I knew we were home.
Since we've moved to our neighborhood, I've had the pleasure of rescuing 4 turtles, 3 of which I rescued from the middle of the road just this past week. The first turtle tried to make it's way through our yard, not knowing or not caring that it had four extremely turtle-curious dogs in it. That one was a fun and easy save. The next two were picked up out of the middle of our neighborhood streets, their meandering little bodies not really that far off track, but still in danger of being crushed. I ran them to the backs of the nearest yards, far enough from the street that I knew they'd be ok. Easy turtle saves.
The last one was yesterday. Evan and I were driving home from preschool, and we decided to take a route we didn't normally take home. It was a 40 mile per hour zone, and there, in a right hand turn lane, was a turtle, slowly making its way across the road. I screamed "another turtle!" and pulled a u-turn so fast, Evan yelled, "Mom! You're driving like a cwazy lady!" I parked the car and ran out into the middle of the street in my flip flops, not waiting, not pausing for the car that was making its way up the hill. Karma had caught up with me, and I wasn't going to let it pass me by. I could almost imagine the car's driver thinking "WTF????", but I grabbed that turtle and held it up so the driver could see me, and dodged across the street to set the turtle down safely. I waited for traffic to part, and then ran back to the car, triumphant.
Evan said, "Mommy, did we save him??" Yes, buddy, we did. Whether I'm cursed to rescue turtles for the rest of my life to make up for the one 100 year old turtle I wasn't able to save, or whether I'm blessed with the same task, I'll take it. I'll still look for that turtle every time I drive down that fateful stretch of road. I always will.
posted by YAHPR @ 7:35 PM
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