Taking A Hit

A few months back I saw a dog get hit by a car and I've thought about it every day since. I've thought about writing about it many times and then rejected the idea because I didn't want to diminish what happened, or write about it in my "oh well" way. But I think about it, like I said, at least once a day. And not on purpose. It drops into my head at completely random times: the sight, the sound, my scream; so vivid that I often bury my face in my hands. Then I wonder how long it will be before it gets filed away, if it will ever be filed away permanently. But this morning I was thinking about some other sad things, including one story that I've been reading about, and again the image dropped into my head. This time though, the part of it that originally upset me the most, suddenly became a comfort; and though I know that realistically it is not a consolation, it is the part of the memory that, after seeing him take such a hit, I need to focus on, and that is this: he kept running.