Walking Home

3, 2, 1 . The numbers on the stoplight blinked next to the flashing hand until the countdown had finished. For 5 seconds, both the pedestrian traffic light and the car traffic lights remained red, suspending everyone in place for just a few seconds, quieting the world for just a moment before a return to the sound of automobiles whizzing by. Every day, thousands of times a day, the lights changed in a perfectly timed game of give and take,one red one green, then both red for 5 seconds, then one green and one red again. A system that protected all those who abided by it, while causing no harm. And yet not everyone abides.

It is a warm April night in 2015, and I am leaving volleyball practice with my older sister. She is only about 13 months older than I, but is already in middle school while I am still in elementary school, and she seems so grown up and smart because of it. We are about to start walking home together, when she all of a sudden challenges me to a race across the street, and takes off before I can give an answer, or even process her request. I quickly chase after her and begin gaining on her, before I reach the stoplight blinking red with the number 3 next to it. I stop, thinking there’s no way I am going to make it. She keeps running. I watch the numbers count down 3,2, 1 as she bolts down the long street, while others are just making it to the curb. The trafficlight stops blinking, and what should be 5 seconds of complete stillness begins, while both the lights are red. But there is unprecedented movement. There is an 11 year old girl sprinting down the street and there is a car jumping the red light and then there is a thud and a fall. And for a few seconds the stillness comes to take its place, despite the green on the cars’ traffic light, as nobody moves in the shock of witnessing what just occurred. The stillness only lasts for its required five seconds, and the world becomes full of honking and shouting and headlights.

My older sister was not seriously hurt. She passed out at the scene and was taken to the hospital by paramedics. She came home a day later with nothing but bruises and scrapes, and was fully healed within months. But she was incredibly lucky. The man who had hit my sister with his car, a tall, menacing man with a thick Russian accent, got out of his car at the time and, upon seeing me run over to her and attempt to revive her, began to shout at me. He had very clearly been in the wrong, as he had started to drive while his light was still red, but nevertheless felt justified in yelling at a crying 10 year old girl who had nothing to do with the accident and whose sister he had just hit with his car. He seemed incredibly sure of himself, sure that he had done nothing wrong and that my sister had been at fault, not him, and that because she was also moving at her red light, he was justified in doing so. I truly believe that the driver thought he was in the right and that this is due to the larger issue of the misunderstanding and miseducation surrounding driving. If this driver had just waited a few seconds more, as he should have, the whole situation would have been easily avoided. I would have joined my sister across the street minutes later, where she would have gloated about winning the race she proposed, and we would walk home together, never again thinking of the amount of danger my sister faced by a few split second decisions. My mother would never have to cover large bruises on my sister’s face for months with makeup as they changed from blue, to a sickly yellow and green, and then finally faded. My father would never become so determined to completely prove that the driver had jumped the red light that he would force me to come back to that same street with him and sprint across alongside him in the same amount of time my sister had given herself, as proof that she could have easily made it before the driver’s light turned green. And yet we are the lucky ones. So many lives have been negatively affected by unsafe driving, whether it be through death, physical injury, or trauma. To wield a 2,000 pound machine irresponsibly can only really be the result of misunderstanding or complete and utter apathy. While I do not think apathy can be solved, making sure that driver education and standards are as good as they can be and ushering in a new generation of drivers who understand the problems with driving recklessly and how to avoid them will seriously diminish the harm and dangers of the roads.