When Death Skids By

It was a bitterly cold winter morning, heavy with low, dark clouds. After a long night of high winds and freezing rain, every road was slick black ice, the treacherous kind that catches your car and sends you skidding off into - if you're lucky - the ditch. If you're not so lucky, into an oncoming car. The wind didn't help - with every gust I had to struggle to stay on the road.

Everyone had stayed home if they could, it seemed; mine had been the only car for miles. But now I could see one car, far off, driving toward me, and as I watched, I could see we were in for trouble.

The driver was going too fast, it was easy to tell, and was fighting to stay in her lane. I tensed and watched as the car skidded first to one side, then the other. Closer, and closer still - and then, just as we were about to pass, she slid across the line into my lane.

I braked, moved over, starting to skid, frantically trying to move out of her way. She was close enough now that I could see her panic-stricken face. I clenched my jaw and gripped the wheel, ready to dive off the road into the snowbanks.

And then, with barely a split second to spare, she managed to ease her car back into her lane.

We missed each other by a hair. I had just enough time to see her white face before she skidded by me, spun sideways and veered into the snowbank on the other side.

I pulled to a stop and threw myself out of the car, running toward her. As I did, she climbed out and pushed through the snow toward me.

When you've nearly died, you don't stand on ceremony. We met in the middle of the road and grabbed each other's hands. "Oh, my God, are you OK?" I gasped. "Yes, but what about you?" she replied, her voice shaking. We both burst into tears.

After taking a few minutes to calm down, we took out our snow shovels and dug her car out. Then, after a hug and some shaky laughter, we each climbed into our cars again and went on our slippery way.

Lately I've been thinking of that moment, the two of us in the middle of that icy road, gripping each other's hands. When I watch news clips of people shouting at each other, holding signs, arguing over masks and climate change, I think of how, when the danger was clear and every second counted, nothing mattered but surviving. And standing in that icy road, having missed death by a hair, it didn't matter what we believed or how we voted. We didn't even ask each other's names. All that mattered was that we were both alive.

The dangers that we're facing these days are invisible - that is, until your neighbor's house is burning and the sparks are falling on your roof. They don't seem real - until you or someone you love is gasping their lives away on a ventilator. Then you realize you've both been on that icy road all along, barreling toward each other, and it's time to act or die.

I just hope we all finally realize it before it's too late.