I could say I was sleep deprived—two young children who weren’t sleeping through the night.
I could say I was under a lot of stress—just moved to a new city, husband traveling, feeling isolated and depressed.
I could say my children were not in the car with me … and I was just making a quick call.
I could say those things, but they don’t matter—they don’t matter when you find yourself blowing through a red light and the grill of a truck comes within feet of your car door.
My hands shook for a good twenty minutes after coming through the near miss completely unscathed. In my rattled state, I felt the urge to reprimand myself for being so damn careless with my precious life—but I didn’t. Instead, I made excuses. But excuses for such reckless behavior come out sounding pathetic, hallow, and downright ludicrous. So I didn’t tell anyone … and acted like it never happened.
I’d like to say that incident changed me.
And it did … for about a week. For a week, I didn’t touch my phone while driving, but the urge to call and chat and check were strong. So I went back to making excuses.