I recently found myself frantically pulling off to the side of the road, steadying my trembling hands, and taking deep calming breaths until my heartbeat regained normal pace.
Never had I felt so certain I was about to die than I had in the two terrifying minutes prior to pulling my car to safety.
On a winding country road, just behind my neighborhood, a young man driving an old Chevy El Camino suddenly appeared around the bend. He was traveling at a dangerously high rate of speed.
For a brief, yet agonizing period of time, I watched him lose control of his car and veer directly into my lane. I saw every agonizing detail of the alarmed expression on his face. Just below his chin, sitting atop his steering wheel and nestled between his hands, was his phone.
While my life flashed before me, all I could think was this: Oh how tragic; the woman who writes about the cost of living a distracted life was killed by a man who was texting and driving.
Miraculously, the driver regained control and swerved back into his lane. My vehicle kicked up rocks along the roadside until it slowed to a stop. I had barely finished a prayer of gratitude when I began spitting words of anger at the young man. But he was now long gone, probably continuing to text with the same agile fingers and careless disregard for human life that he had while coming around the curve.
I am not a violent person; I do not welcome confrontation, but oh how I wanted to grab him by the shirt and shake him vigorously until he heard what I had to say. How dare you! How dare you value a stupid text message over my life?
And then suddenly, it struck me. Those words sounded hauntingly familiar. I had spoken them somewhere before.
Oh, that's right. To myself.
While drowning in my highly distracted life two and a half years ago, I didn't indulge in texting while driving, but I did allow myself to check email at stoplights. I convinced myself that it wasn't like texting and driving at all. I assured myself I was 100 percent focused on driving when the light turned green.
What a joke.
One day, as I was reading an email at a stoplight, the car in the left lane hit the gas and entered the intersection. Because I was multitasking, I carelessly followed his lead and began pressing on the gas. Suddenly, I realized the car next to me had the green left-turn arrow; my light was still red.
In that moment, I realized what I was doing was stupid. I realized what I was doing was wreckless, irresponsible and risky. I realized this "innocent" little habit of mine could cost my children their mother.
That's when I reprimanded myself the way I would have liked to scold the texting driver. I vividly remember this long and painful diatribe:
How can you even think that reading a trivial email message is worth risking the presence of a mother in your children's lives?
Can you imagine whoever would have to break this news to your husband and parents? "I'm sorry, but Rachel was checking email on her phone and accidently drove into the middle of an intersection while the light was red."
Seriously? You are an educated woman. What the heck is wrong with you?
It was the wake-up call I needed. And I only needed it once. Thank heaven, I changed my ways before I lived (or died) to regret that senseless habit. In fact, a day doesn't go by when I don't think about that choice. Every time my daughters and I make our 20-minute trek three times a week to swim practice, I am thankful I changed my dangerous habit.
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