Going 65 on my way home from my brother’s after the Red Sox satisfying shellacking of the Yankees last Monday I hit one of the ponds that are common on San Antonio roads when it’s raining. I did a 360 and came to rest 100 yards short of who I take to be the pond’s previous victim, wobbling about the margin in the vicinity of his vehicle. I neither hit nor was I hit by anything.
Less than 16 hours later, driving to work in the opposite direction, in approximately the same place under approximately the same conditions, traffic crept past an accident scene that included the remains of three mangled vehicles strewn across the highway, one a pickup with its cab clean off.
Life can change in an instant; our lives hang by a thread. Pack your moments with all the love they’ll hold; it’s the only baggage that won’t be jettisoned when things begin to spin out of control.
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