Choosing to Come Home

When I was three years old, my dad was deployed to Iraq.

At three, I did not understand what that meant. I knew my dad was gone. I knew that other people talked about where he was, and I knew that one day he would come home. But I was too young to understand the danger behind those words or to imagine the possibility that he might not.

My dad returned when I was five years old. I don't remember every detail of that day. But I knew what it meant. It meant that the person my family had spent years loving did not become a photograph on a wall or a name we spoke about in the past tense. He came home.

And because he did, I got to grow up with him.

I got to hear his advice, argue with him, laugh with him, and make memories with him. I got to move across the country and eventually spend the last four years of high school living in Hawaii because of his career. I got to become a student, an athlete, a daughter, and a person with dreams of my own.

My life exists in the way it does because my dad came home.

That is why I think about what happens every morning when millions of Americans wake up and begin an ordinary day.

They get dressed.

They brush their hair.

They follow their normal morning routine.

They grab their keys, get into their cars, and start the engine.

Maybe they are driving to work. Maybe they are taking their children to school. Maybe they are running an errand or heading to practice. They are thinking about their day, their responsibilities, and what they need to accomplish before they go home that evening.

They are not thinking about dying.

They are not thinking that this could be the last morning they ever see their family.

They are not thinking that the person driving next to them could make one decision that changes everything. And that is what makes driving so frightening.

We are surrounded by people who are simply trying to get somewhere, yet every time we get behind the wheel, we are participating in something that can change a life in seconds.

Most crashes are not caused by people who woke up that morning intending to hurt someone. A driver might look down at a text message because they think it will only take a second. They might speed because they are late. They might drive while exhausted because they believe they can make it home. They might assume they are experienced enough to handle the road.

They never intended for their decision to matter that much.

But the road does not care what we intended.

A second of distraction does not know that someone has a family waiting at home.

A car does not know that its driver has plans for tomorrow.

A crash does not know that the person in the other vehicle has spent their entire life building a future they have not yet had the chance to live. That is why being a safe and educated driver is about more than knowing the rules of the road. It is about understanding the responsibility behind them.

You cannot decide to become a safer driver after the crash has already happened.

You cannot suddenly put your phone away when your car is already moving toward another vehicle.

You cannot decide to slow down after you have already lost control.

You cannot choose to make a better decision once the consequences of the wrong one have already begun.

The decision has to come first.

Before you enter the car.

Before you start the engine.

Before you pull out of the driveway.

Safe driving begins with choices made before we ever face the moment that tests them.

It means putting your phone away before you hear the notification. It means wearing your seatbelt even when you are only driving a few minutes. It means refusing to drive when you are too tired or impaired. It means slowing down when conditions are dangerous, even if you are already late.

It also means remembering that you are never truly driving alone.

The person in the car beside you might be someone's parent.

The pedestrian crossing the street might be someone's child.

The teenager driving toward you might have dreams of becoming a doctor, a teacher, an athlete, or an artist.

Every person on the road has a future that matters to someone.

When I think about my dad's deployment, I think about how easily a person's future can depend on circumstances completely outside their control. My family could not control every danger he faced in Iraq. We could only hope that he would come home.

But on the road, we have more control than we sometimes act like we do.

We can choose not to text.

We can choose not to speed.

We can choose not to drive impaired.

We can choose to pay attention.

We can choose to protect the lives around us.

As I prepare to leave home and begin college, I am entering a time in my life when I will have more independence than ever before. I will make more decisions on my own, including decisions behind the wheel. That freedom is exciting, but I know now that independence is not simply having the ability to do whatever you want.

It is having the maturity to understand what your choices can cost.

My dad came home from Iraq, and because he did, I have had the opportunity to live my life.

I have had the opportunity to grow up.

To dream.

To make mistakes and learn from them.

To discover who I am and who I want to become.

Not everyone gets that opportunity.

Every year, tens of thousands of people in America lose their lives in motor vehicle crashes. Some are victims of another person's carelessness. Some make a single decision they never get the chance to take back. Behind every number is a person whose absence changes the lives of everyone who loved them.

That is why I believe safe driving is not just about protecting yourself.

It is about protecting someone's daughter.

Someone's son.

Someone's parent.

Someone's best friend.

Someone's entire future.

I cannot control every person who gets behind the wheel. Neither can you.

But I can control what I do.

So before I drive, I want to remember something I did not understand when I was three years old: coming home is never guaranteed.

Every time we start an engine, we are given the opportunity to make choices that help change that.

The driver's seat is not just a place of freedom.

It is a place of responsibility.

So before you get in the car, before you start the engine, before you pull onto the road, make the decision that matters most.

Choose to come home.

And choose to let everyone else come home, too.