I was just pulling up to the corner to turn onto the main road when it almost happened. Traffic was heavy and I was looking left when a man in an SUV cut across three lanes of traffic to turn the corner from the main road onto the side street. Directly into my lane. He was moving fast. I slammed on my brakes.  The driver in the car in the approaching lane on the main road slammed on his brakes.The SUV swerved to miss me and sped away into the distance of my rear view mirror. I sat for a moment breathing deeply. My hands shaking on the wheel. The other driver honked his horn angrily and carried on his way.

A near miss. Over in a flash and a honk of a horn.

Waiting for a break in traffic, I recomposed myself. Thoughts of ‘what an a** flit through my mind. I breathed deeply. Why are there so many stupid people in the world? I wondered.

Stop.

There are no stupid people in the world Louise. There are people who, for whatever reason, do stupid things. But they themselves are not stupid. It’s their actions that are questionable.

Bless him. Forgive me.

Ellie and I went to the park and I shook off the tendrils of  the near miss in the soft spring breezes caressing my skin. We hiked along a trail at the top of the river valley, dry prairie grasses waving in the breeze. Two young boys on bicycles rode up behind us. I stepped aside, called Ellie to my side and they passed. “Thanks!” they called out as they rode away.

I took photos of the two crocus blossoming. The river flowing. Ellie rolled in mud. We traipsed down to the river to clean her off.

On our way back up the hill towards the car a young man came skateboarding around the curve in the trail. His smile was huge and I laughed to witness the pure joy of his ride. He stopped several meters in front of us, stood up off the skateboard on which he’d been sitting to ride down the hill, picked it up and started the climb back up the hill.

When I rounded the bend he was standing, skateboard primed for the next run down, halfway to the top of the hill. He had spiked purple and black hair. A silver ring through his nose. Large black ear spacers. Tight, stovepipe jeans hung low. A ‘scenster’ as my daughters would call him (at least I think that’s the term).

He smiled as I approached. Went to move his skateboard and helnet off the paved path.

“It’s okay,” I said. “We can walk around.”

Hearing me speak to him, Ellie, ever hopeful of attention, pulled on her leash to say hello. He pet her. She squirmed in delight. He laughed. She squirmed more.

“Aren’t you scared going down that hill?” I asked.

He laughed. “Yeah! It’s great!”

Oh to welcome fear with such enthusiasm.

Ellie and I continued up the hill a bit. Turned to watch the young man get ready for his next ride.

“Is there anyone behind you?” he asked the woman walking some distance behind me.

“Not that I noticed,” she replied.

And with a smile and a wave, helmet back on his head, he crouched low on his board. Bent at the waist, hands behind his back like a speed skater, he took off down the hill. Just watching him was exhilarating. His body was poetry in motion. His joy palpable and contagious.

Sure. I could judge him for his choices. Think him stupid for taking such a risk (it is a steep hill). He was old enough to make his choices. And he was incredibly competent on his board. And watching him was pure delight.

He made a difference.

In his infectious delight of time and space and simply being alive, he made a difference and I am grateful for his reminder to get out and take risks. Have fun!

And I am reminded of the man in the car. He made a poor choice. Took an unncessary risk. Fortunately, the other drivers were paying attention and nothing untoward happened. Time to shake it off and let it go.

Bless him. Forgive me.