I am Responsible for the Squashed Squirrel

I just saw a squirrel get hit by a car right in front of mine.

One moment, there were two squirrels playing - maybe courting, maybe fighting - on the sidewalk, bounding around each other, coming together, bouncing apart, skittering in a circle only to fly at one another again. Suddenly, in its dance, one leapt right off the sidewalk and met the tire - possibly even just the barest edge of the tire - of an oncoming SUV.

Twitching. Fabulous tail fanning.

I adjusted the steering wheel of my car two inches to the left, sliding by without a sound, without ceremony.

That just happened. Poor squirrel.

A peek in the rearview mirror. Still down. Get up, squirrel. Be okay.

Squirrels. Because who did the other squirrel lose? A playmate or childhood friend? A lover? An enemy? A brother.

I have lost a brother.

And then the shock. In the midst of watching nature happen, before I was even fully able to wonder about it, I was confronted with its death. I wasn't just witness to the death of the squirrel and some kind of natural relationship, though I'm sure that was also the outcome, but the death of nature itself.

And I am just grieved.

What are we doing here?