When I was sixteen, I couldn’t wait to drive, every chance I had. Around the block, parking the car, to the store and back with Mom. In a car packed solid with guardian angels.

That’s what I know now. I never looked back before. Never really got scared. Until I saw you here, awake, bleeding but alert, vacant eyes replaying the night’s scene over and over.

Your son, learner’s permit, family fun, loss of control. His panicked eyes as the flashing lights pulled up, seeing him performing CPR on your wife.

Well, your former wife.

And I have two sons.

Crossposted to 100_words and onehundredwords