My regular routine started with finishing soccer practice at five o’clock and then patiently waiting 15 minutes for my brother to finish his practice. Eventually, we would walk to the truck to drive home. We would back out, pull forward, drive 15 miles per hour out of the parking lot, exit the elementary school parking lot around the first high school parking lot, cut through the student parking lot, and then leave through the exit. Although the parking lot had many obstacles and cars that also went through the parking lot daily, I could say we mastered maneuvering corners and obstacles. Every day, 5 times a week, a simple routine, no thought about anything that could happen. It's just a routine I tell myself, a normal drive that happens every day. A regular course of action, but the feeling is nothing but normal.

The same routine again and again, getting careless about everything because we mastered the movement of getting home. Knowing the exact turns to make, the amount of pressure to apply to the gas, when to slow down, and when to shift your foot to the break. Driving home was the easy part of the day. The stress was relieved once we got into the truck. I threw my backpack into the back of the truck, pulled out my phone, and replied to my messages. Zoned into my phone, unaware. I thought that nothing could happen.

Unaware of the mistakes that could happen. Suddenly the movement felt different. BAM! Jerked forward, but the seatbelt caught me. Then realizing what just happened, making eye contact with my brother, his wide-open eyes meet mine. Looking forward, watching smoke start to rise from the hood. We hit a light pole. Next to my brother driving was a friend going in the same direction. Same speed, same movement as us except my brother looked towards the left at his friend suddenly the wheel turned with his head.

The front of our car lodged around the pole. The seat belt felt lodged into my chest. The smoke was rising, oil dripping, the car was totaled, and the light pole was crooked and cracked. I remember stepping out of the car into a puddle of some sort of substance, it looked slimy. Staring at the sight, scared of our parents, scared of what was going to happen. I was scared for my brother. The phone rang as my brother held it to his ear, to tell my parents what happened. Staring at the sight of the truck, as my stomach felt uneasy. Taking in what just happened. I felt uncomfortable that something was safe every day, but one day it wasn’t.

It made me think about how things can change quickly, and half the things we don’t even realize they change. Shortly after the call, my parents arrived, and they let out a little chuckle. They were laughing at how we could hit a light pole straight on. I knew they were disappointed but didn’t want to show it. They knew my brother was being hard on himself already, he was scared of the thought that we both could have been badly injured. Everyone was okay, but the uneasy feeling was and still is there whenever we drive in a parking lot or near a light pole. I could say I’m scared of light poles, but I’m not scared of them. I’m scared of what could happen if we hit them again. Or what could happen if we crashed again? I’ll forever remember September 8th, 2023, the day when our routine got wrecked.

I don’t like routines, at least not anymore. We get too comfortable with them and we let down our guard. We get too careless and reckless, we let our minds think nothing can happen. Truth is many things can happen, we just don’t think about it at the moment. I think it was a mistake to pull my phone out and reply to messages, a mistake to feel like the stress was relieved when I got into the truck after a long day. I learned that nothing can go perfectly every time, even if you're paying attention or not. Things happen, learn from them and move on.