I have always held a fascination with volcanoes and other natural disasters. Having lived in Washington State my entire life, I grew up with the stories of Mount St. Helens. My parents heard the blast from their cabin. They debated over what the explosion could have been, my mom jokingly throwing out, “Mount St. Helens finally blew!” Turns out she was correct.
I may be morbid but after experiencing the Nisqually earthquake of 2001 that hit the Seattle region, I was hooked. My daughters were given a book on earthquakes and volcanoes and the obsession was passed down to them. When we moved down to the south west of the state, we were excited to be able to view Mount St. Helens from our front yard. We felt its shadow falling over us, calling to us so finally on a clear memorial day weekend, we took my husband’s brand new car up the mountain.
My husband is a clear-headed, prepared for anything type of man. He handles emergencies with ease and it truly takes a lot to rattle him. Our little family began our ascension up the mountain. The sky was bright blue, the sun was out, the trees were serene and inviting. We were cruising, listening to our oldest daughter throw out facts about the mountain and volcanoes in general, when all of a sudden a group of deer pass in front of us.
My husband hits the gas pedal, we slow down and breathe out in relief as they dart into the woods around us. Smiling and exclaiming over the excitement of seeing actual deer, my husband accelerates, right as a lone deer runs right in front of us. It apparently was separated from its herd. The doe looks right at us. Her eyes are wide and fearful. Her little hooves start slipping on the pavement, her legs start bowing out in front of her as she loses her balance. Our daughters start screaming. My husband, curses under his breath. I swear, this moment occurred in slow motion.
I reach out for the handle above our door and prepare for impact. I’m scared to death and I’m praying for the safety of our daughters. My husband swerves the car onto a gravel road narrowly missing the deer and hits the breaks so hard, we propel forward. I look over to see that he’s shaking and has sweat forming at his temples. His breath is labored and he gives me a look I have never seen before. He actually is rattled.
I quickly turn around to check on our daughters. My youngest is on the verge of tears, her little lip is quivering. My oldest has a wide smile of her face and her eyes are lit with excitement.
“Wow! We almost hit a deer!” She exclaims!
My husband turns around checking on everyone and then he sits with his hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead as he attempts to calm down. We laugh it off and continue up the mountain. We saw beautiful views that day. The mountain was pristine. We enjoyed the visitor centers and watched the mountain erupt on screen but the excitement was dimmed. We had only planned on learning about the volcano disaster not coming close to our own disaster. Our children who were so excited about this trip, could only talk about the deer we almost hit. That became apparent when my daughter brought her kindergarten journal home from school a week later. The subject of the journal entry was titled. “What I did over the weekend.”
She wrote in big loopy letters. “Over the weekend, we almost hit a deer!”
I suppose it’s those moments of near disaster that make for good memories down the road. For my husband and I, we were just thankful that no one got hurt, deer included.
