Let Me Know When You Get Home

“Drive safe. Let me know when you get home.”

The words linger as you grab your keys, a familiar farewell, almost routine. The night is cool- perfect for rolling down the windows and letting the wind whip through your hair. The stereo cranked up, your favorite songs blasting through the speakers, and the empty road ahead seems like yours alone.

It’s late, and the world feels quiet. The glow of streetlights flickers by as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the music, not even noticing how the needle on the speedometer climbs. Twenty over. Thirty over. You feel the rush, the thrill, but you’re not thinking about the risk-just the freedom, or the feeling of the road slipping away beneath you.

But here’s the thing about the road: it’s unforgiving.

Then, out of nowhere, the road curves ahead. It’s sharp, unexpected. You see it too late.

You Slam the brakes. Screeeeeeeech.

Tires slid, screeching against the pavement. Your heart lurches into your throat. The car swerves, desperate to grip the road, but there’s no time, no control.

And then-Bang

Everything goes black.

For a moment, there’s nothing. No sound, no feeling. Just a void swallowing you whole, leaving behind nothing but the silence of promises never kept.

From a young age, my mother always warned me that the road was a dangerous place. The usual cautions- don’t play by the street, look both ways before you cross- were drilled into me, but with her, it was different. There was always a weight behind her words, a shadow of something more. She knew the dangers too well, more than anyone should ever have to.

When she was younger, she lost her older brother in a tragic accident. It wasn’t just an abstract fear for her; she knew the cost of the road, the brutal reality of what could be taken in a split second. So when it came time for my older sister and me to get our licenses, she was hesitant. Terrified, really. She feared that what had happened to her brother could happen to us- that the road, with all its unpredictability and recklessness, could take us away too.

We never think it will happen to us, right?

We drive fast because we feel invincible like we’ve got all the time in the world. The world slows down when you’re behind the wheel, and for a moment, it feels like you’re in control of your destiny. The truth is, that sense of freedom can be deadly. One second of distraction, one decision to speed, one glance at a phone- it’s all it takes.

I didn’t fully understand her fear until my senior year of high school. That year, I lost people. Some acquaintances, others close friends, all in terrible accidents. Most were caused by drivers who were careless- distracted, speeding, or simply not paying attention.

And here’s what haunts me the most:

Each accident felt preventable, each loss unnecessary.

My heart ached for their families, for the ones who never got the chance to hear that their loved ones were okay. Some waited for a text, a call- something to confirm everything was fine. But that reassurance never came. Those texts, those calls- they never arrived. Imagine the sinking feeling of waiting, knowing something is wrong but holding out hope, only to have that shattered in a single moment.

And then there’s fear.

Every time a friend calls or texts me to say they’ve been in an accident, my heart stops. For a split second, I’m paralyzed by the fear that I could’ve lost them- that this time, they might not have been so lucky.

That heart-pounding, suffocating terror that grips you when you hear the words, “I crashed.”

Because it could’ve been worse.

Because I know, all too well, that every day someone receives that dreaded notification- that their loved one won’t be coming home. That the road and the recklessness of a moment stole them away.

It’s not just about the speed or the thrill. It’s about responsibility. It’s about knowing that every time you get behind the wheel, you hold not only your life but the lives of everyone around you in your hands. Your friends. Your family. Strangers on the road.

So please, drive safely.

It sounds like such a simple thing to say, but it holds the weight of so many lost lives. So many broken hearts. I think about them every time I get in the car. I think about how quickly everything can change- how one moment of carelessness can steal someone’s entire future.

Too many lives are lost this way. Too many people never get to say goodbye. And it’s not worth it.

Let’s try to make sure everyone gets that notification.

The one that says,

“Hey, just letting you know I made it home safely.”