Moment's Aren't Like Pennies You Can Save in Your Piggy Bank

I was driving to Atlanta with my younger daughter yesterday afternoon to see a concert that is two and a half hours away, on a Tuesday, and meeting Piper at the venue. It is something that she has been looking forward to for months and literally has not stopped talking about it. 

If I want to be honest, I was not looking forward to it. 

It was on a school night, we were meeting Piper who was driving by herself from school, which scared me, and so I plotted to follow Piper back to school in my car, after the concert, and then take off for home, which put another two and a half hours on my already two and a half hour drive. 

If there is one motto that I try to live by; we are only here for a short time, and I want to make the most of it, especially when it comes to the memories of my children. Perhaps after so many traumatic events that I either could have prevented, or done nothing about, my resolve is to do all that I can to make sure that they have fond memories to override the not-so-fond ones.

About an hour into the drive, it started to drizzle lightly. We went another five minutes, and it turned to an out and out torrential pour, where you could barely see out the windshield. 

I had my adaptive cruise control on my car, so I felt a little secure thinking that even if I couldn’t see the car in front of me, my car could sense it. 

Being from the Midwest, I have never been afraid of rain and slick conditions, but since I have moved to the South, much like a lot of things, ordinary things sometimes seem different. When it rains here, it feels like my tires don’t grip the pavement and I often feel my car “drift” when I go even the speed limit in the rain. 

As I drove down the road, I could almost feel the ruts of my tires getting either stuck in the ditches of water, or floating out of them quickly, and making me feel out of control. 

I did something I don’t do very often, and I listened to my inner voice that was saying “danger”. I slowed my car down, deciding that I should probably not follow the car in front of me so closely. For anyone who knows my Midwestern style of driving, that was not my normal reaction.

On the right side of my car, was a white work truck barreling along and kicking up a ton of water at our car, making it even more difficult to see. 

I remarked to Lo, “He’s going way too fast and making it hard for me to drive.” 

Just as a finished my sentence, and she agreed with me, the work truck appeared to be cutting me off a few hundred feet ahead, but making the transition way too fast. The truck went sideways all the way past the inside lane we were in, and smashed into the grass median to the left. 

You could tell that the person in the truck was trying to break too quickly, so the truck fishtailed, kicked mud up at our car, and within an instant, had rolled over one and a half times, us witnessing it as in happened. 

Lo and I took a collective gasp.

I said to her “Get my phone,” and she scrambled to find it. “Hurry, Dial 911,” I heatedly said as I searched frantically to find a marker to tell the operator where to find the overturned truck as I tried to gather my composure to make the call. 

“Yes, there is an accident at exit 139 on I20 west…” I repeated the numbers 139 and 20 several times as if to remember it myself. 

“There was an accident and it is really bad. You need to get someone there immediately, the person is in real trouble, please hurry”. the operator then asked if I had stopped. 

“No, it is raining really hard, I can’t really see, the roads are slick, and I have my young daughter with me so I thought it too dangerous,” I said, apologetically, wondering if I should have stopped. But as with many things I have witnessed that I wish I could do something about, stopping would not have helped anything but my conscience.

“Okay, no problem. What is your name?,” he asked as we finished the call. 

I hung up and Lauren and I both sat in silence for a second, neither one daring to utter a word about what we just saw, and then I broke the silence… 

“That was one of the most horrible things I have ever seen. In all of my years and all that I have witnessed, that was just terrible,” was all that I could muster.

Tears began streaming down my eyes and before I knew it, I looked over and we were both crying heavily thinking about the person who was laying in the middle of the boulevard and what would happen to them. 

“That was really bad, do you think they will be okay?,” she asked me.

“I don’t know Lo, it looked really bad.” 

We once again sat in silence. Within just five miles and another ten minutes, the storms had cleared and the sun was in full shine.

Then, I began to talk aloud…

“I don’t believe in random events…”

“What do you mean?,” she asked

“I mean, what are the odds that it started to rain at just that time? 

What are the odds that I slowed down, when I am usually full-speed ahead? 

What are the odds that he swerved over into our lane and because I slowed down just slightly, we missed colliding with him? 

What are the odds that there wasn’t a guard rail that would have kept the truck in our lane, so we would have crashed not being able to avoid it? 

What are the odds that that all happened as it did, and now we are driving and there isn’t a cloud in the sky?

God, or whoever is running the show, has a plan for all of us. When it is time to leave, it is time and that isn’t something I say to scare you; it is a way that I would like for you to see life. 

You can’t hold onto life, or save it. Moments in time aren’t like pennies that you can put into a piggy bank to cash in when you have time to use them. 

Since you can't save time, I want you to remember to spend it wisely. 

There is a reason that all of that happened in front of us, right now, this day, when I was questioning what I was doing going to Atlanta in the middle of the week only to turn around and drive home in the early hours of what would turn out to be morning the next day. 

NONE of that is random.

If there is one thing I want you to take from today, it is that life is precious not because you never know when your last day or minute is, but because you have every minute to spend wisely and make the most of.”

Perhaps I was talking to her, or to myself. Since the release of my book, I have been going over my choices, what I did with my time, the way that I spent my “pennies” and trying to figure out what it all means. I have thought much about things that I have tried to avoid for over a decade because they are so extremely painful, but one thing still haunt me.

When Colin found out he was sick, he set his sites on getting better. He locked himself in his room, avoided things he found pleasure in, and believed that he was going to save his energy for when he was cured. Only then would he enjoy the time he had left. 

He tried to deposit his pennies in a bank to save them.

Those "pennies," or moments, are ones that he unwillingly spent, not realizing that they don't accrue to give back. 

If you don't spend moments, they are gone.

The guilt I feel at watching him saving his moments instead of spending them, pains me deeply. I am not sure what I could have done to change his mindset, or if I could have, but I don't want to watch anyone waste their precious pennies thinking they are somehow saving them.

I don't know exactly what life is all about, or why we are here - I am still trying to figure it out. Until I do, however, my pennies will be spent driving five hours on a school night to see a 21 year-old singer that makes my teenage girls feel full of life, and fill their lives with the most well spent pennies on earth.

People say I am crazy sometimes when I tell them my plans, but when this is over, I want to know that I went as far as I could for those I love and that we enjoyed every minute of it. 

I hope that it rubs off on my children, everyone I love, and everyone who reads this.