Rearview Mirrors

On the way to the park today, I passed a car, revving in the middle of a snow bank. It had about eight inches of snow right on top of it, and it was not able to move. Snow spewed out of its wheels. People on the sidewalks pressed themselves up against the iron grates so common to our neighborhood and watched apprehensively as the car jerked around inside the drift. A small square of windshield was cleared, probably because the driver, who had parked just next to a fire hydrant, needed to get across the street in order to avoid a ticket. The driver pulled out into the street; Alright, we figured, now it'll pull over. But no. Instead, it began to back up, though they had no back windshield to see through, to rearview mirrors to check, and no Chloe's parent there to shoot at them if they went up onto the curb. With bated breath, the onlookers could not stop looking at the car. When the parking brake was pulled and the space across the street was filled, we all let out our breath in a big gush, knocking a piece of ice off of the SUV in front of us.

Sometimes we have to plunge into the depths of uncertainty. I'm not saying I'd drive with my eyes closed, but I'm not saying I wouldn't. The danger is what makes it uncertain, but if there was no danger, we'd know everything. What would we wonder about at night until we fell asleep? What would we do our thesis papers on? What would we ask if we only had one question, as the saying goes? The questions are the danger is the chance, is the no ticket.