It was a day like any other. I awoke and stretched as the summer sun lay strewn across my sheets. Junior year had just ended, and I was getting familiar with the feeling of not having to wake up early. This summer was going to be different – I had my license and a car to go with it: a beautiful new, white Nissan Xterra. With my newfound freedom fresh on my mind, I leapt out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. My mother was bent over the sink with her phone to her ear.

“Yes … thank you. I’ll be there soon,” she said, then hung up. “I need a favor, sweetheart,” she said, turning to me.

She had brought her truck in for service and now had to retrieve it. I was the only one home, so I’d drive her there and then follow her home. Simple.

As we made our way to the car dealership with my mother behind the wheel of my car, she reminded me that this highway was dangerous. The lanes were narrow and busy with rushing cars. Every exit and median was littered with construction workers, cones, and hazard signs. As we drove I mentally prepared myself for the trip back.

Soon enough we arrived at the service station and my mother got her truck. Looking at her gas gauge, she winced. We would have to exit to the closest gas station.

As we drove, I followed close behind my mother like a baby duckling. Everything was fine at first. I kept focused on the road. It would be irresponsible to be distracted at a time like this. But I was an inexperienced driver and had only had my license for a few months.

My mother put her right signal on, indicating that we were close to the exit. The only problem was, I was one lane over, and my path was blocked by a giant concrete truck in the right lane.

I had a choice: speed up and pass the truck or continue and take the next exit. The second choice scared me too much; the thought of losing my mother seemed incomprehensible. So, stupidly, I sped up and attempted to pass the truck. However, I judged everything wrong.

The most horrifying and unimaginable sound announced the collision, and my car began to spin off the road.

Everything was spinning around me like a carousel, but I stayed hopeful that I would come to rest on the side of the road and step out of my car, both of us unharmed. My last few bits of hope shattered along with my back window.

Gravity seemed to laugh at me as my car started to flip. I imagined that these would be my last moments. Any second, I would hit the ground hard and snap my neck. Or I’d be flung out the shattered windshield and crushed along with my car.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the smell. An odd smell that to this day I still cannot name. It was like burnt rubber and gas on a hot day. The second thing I realized was that my radio was still playing. I reached up and turned it off. The third thing I noticed was that my seat belt was strung across my chest and I was sitting on top of the airbag, which had deployed over the window; the car had come to rest on its side. The fourth thing I realized was that nothing in my body seemed to be broken. The hearing in my left ear was a little muted, there were bloody cuts up and down my legs and arms, but everything still worked like it should.

The fifth thing I noticed was the screaming. Through my cracked windshield I could see people getting out of their cars with worried faces as they ran toward me. I heard my name screamed over and over, and finally realized it was my mother. She had run around to the front of my car but was unable to see in.

“I’m all right, Mom! I’m right here!” I squeaked. She fell to her knees at the sound of my voice. Some men asked if I could climb out the shattered back window. I told them I could, and somehow I did.

Slowly I was helped up by these kind strangers. The next thing I knew the ambulance arrived, and then the police, and then my father and step-father. Tears welled up in my father’s eyes as he hugged me tight. My mother’s voice choked as she attempted to describe what she had witnessed in her rear view mirror.

A paramedic cleaned the glass from my skin, then told me nothing looked serious so I had no need to go to the hospital. My car, on the other hand, was completely totaled. I watched in disbelief as it was towed away. Hours seemed like minutes, and before I knew it we were driving home in my mother’s truck.

We sat in silence on the way home. It didn’t strike me until later that day, as I soaked in the tub, just how fragile life is. Sure, I’d been told over and over that I was extremely lucky. I could easily have been killed.

It shocks me to think that my life could have ended just like that. In half a second, all my achievements, relationships, and ambitions would mean nothing. Everything I’d ever done would be all I’d ever be remembered for.

Earlier that day, before the crash, I’d been worrying about an argument I’d had with some friends. Up to the crash, that was all I could think about. After the crash I couldn’t even remember what we’d fought about. It was just so petty.

Life is fragile and deserves to be lived to the fullest. You can’t live your life in a constant state of fear or stress. You could die in a year, a week, or even tomorrow. Live in the moment, and make the most of it.