An Apology
May 14, 2005


If I had known you were crawling about on the edge of my windshield, I would have removed you, and put you somewhere snails are more used to spending time. But I didn't see you. So there you sat, for an entire car ride from Santa Cruz to San Francisco.

When I finally stopped the car, and headed out of the garage to meet Mum, I saw you stuck to the car, waving your little head around. I'm guessing the fact that the car had stopped moving is what made you emerge from your shell. If I had any iota of an idea as to what you might have been thinking, it must have been, "Oh my god, what the hell just happened!?"

When I returned to my car, many hours later, I failed to notice if you were still there (I'm not accustomed to doing 'snail check' before I drive somewhere). It wasn't until I was well on my way that I realized you had moved on to the windshield, firmly attached and curled up in your shell. It was a drizzly evening, and I avoided using the windshield wipers as long as possible. But there was a point, right around Candlestick, where I could avoid it no longer. If I wanted to make it home in one piece, the windshield wipers had to do their job.

So I apologize, for my windshield wipers sweeping you off the window and hurtling you into the dark, drizzly night sky. I hope that where ever you might have landed was sort of soft. If there is ever another snail on my car, and I see him before I start driving, I promise to remove him and return him to someplace safe for snails.



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© Whitney Brandt-Hiatt: All writing, images, and photogrpahy are the property of Whitney Brandt-Hiatt unless otherwise noted.