I’m not a vegan or an animal-rights activist, but there is something profound about taking another living creature’s life.

The other night, I hit a bird while driving my car. Its been years since I’ve felt that particular and distinct thud of running over a creature. Oh sure, I’ve killed several thousand bugs and a few bees have kamikazed themselves into my flesh while I was on my motorcycle, but feeling that thump, hearing the thunk, and seeing in my rear view mirror a snow of feathers cascading in my wake sent a pang of sadness and sorrow through my body.

I am so sorry that in my rush from point A to point B you had to give up your life.
Not for my sustenance, but because of my disconnect.

When I drove home, I was too cowardly to retrace my path for fear I might see from my front window the death I caused.

It seems such a little thing – the death of a pigeon, but if I hadn’t left my home on a wave of anxiety, that bird would still be alive.

… and what a lovely sunset it was.

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