The Squirrel and the Friend
There we were talking as we had done off and on for a long, long time. My friend was concerned because of some personal matters that made her question whether she was as free as she wished to be or as free as a person has a right to be. While we were talking I noticed something moving in the background. As it came from behind a tree I realized it was a squirrel that had apparently come from the street nearby. My friend and I continued to talk about the challenges of having lots of young children and wondering about getting a job and having a husband, etc. Lots of stresses in what she thinks is a unique life and I see as a fairly commonplace set of pressures. The squirrel continued to come toward the house staying behind her and moving surprisingly slowly for a squirrel.
We continued our conversation while I suggested that a job might be good to provide some extra cash, but more importantly it might provide a pathway to a sort of freedom. As with most freedoms it would be self imposed in response to self imposed captivity. At any rate, the opportunity to interact with adults and to be challenged to do more and do it better had much to recommend it. As we talked I better understood the problem with having underutilized motivation and unrealized creativity that contributed to the feeling of being greatly restricted. Finally I saw what was happening with the squirrel and why it seemed to move as though it were raised by a tortoise. It did not have the use of its two rear legs. Apparently the road had held something more imposing than asphalt. A car had clearly hit the squirrel.
We talked some more about what sort of jobs might be best for my friend and how her 4 kids between the ages of 7 and 2 would have to help, as would her husband. He seemed to be very supportive, and the kids would have to adapt, as kids usually do. As we talked the squirrel begin to climb a tree in the front yard, apparently afraid of being in the lawn with cats and dogs in that neighborhood not to mention all the children. We stayed focused on our conversation as the squirrel using just its front two legs stayed focused on the heroic task of climbing the tree.
My friend continued to feel trapped but at least recognized that she had many options and began to consider which ones to exercise. The squirrel, much to my amazement, actually got to a height of about 20 feet and then it began to slide back down the tree with its front claws scraping the bark and its two rear legs hanging a bit like a clock pendulum.
I was thinking that perhaps my friend would find a way to escape her sense of imprisonment as the squirrel hit the ground and did not move after that. I suggested that my friend look behind her and she saw the now dead squirrel. We looked at each other and agreed that was sort of sad. She said she would tell her husband to gather up the squirrel when he got home and he was reported to have done so and put the bag holding the squirrel into the garbage can with the lid on top. I left thinking how lucky she was to be able to climb as far as she wanted and to stay up high if that became her goal.
