I’m only 20, so I don’t come to you as a much older and wiser parent speaking wisdom upon you. I’m still a kid myself, but not so long ago I faced a situation in which I was forced to grow up and face the cruel real world very quickly. In sharing my story, I hope that this summer even just one teenager reads this and understands the danger of being behind the wheel.

I had been a legal adult for six days. It was senior year and life could not have been better. On my 18th birthday, our football team won a thriller to advance to play in the, “dome,” where Iowa’s four best teams from each division contend for a coveted state championship. Meanwhile, the volleyball team had also qualified for the state tournament, and my best friends and I immediately began making travel arrangements.

I begged my dad to let me take his SUV. It was the only vehicle that would fit the six of us and my little brother. I promised I’d drive slow, I’d drive safe, I wouldn’t get in an accident. On the eve of the two games, Dad washed it and filled it with gas so it would be ready for the trip.

I hardly slept the night before. The sun finally rose and it was time to get up and go to school. After a hundred texts and calls, everyone was finally loaded into the vehicle and we headed to the first stop; state volleyball. We stood in the front row, cheered loud, and the girls won in thrilling fashion to advance to the state championship.

I insisted on driving straight to Cedar Falls to get there extra early so no one else would have a chance at our front row seats. We made one last stop to get window paint and covered each window with cocky excerpts about how we were the best. The drive there was great. We sang and danced and yelled and got there so early that we made kickoff for the game before ours.

Our school lost the game on a blown call and we fought back tears. Another, “last,” of high school was upon us. At that moment, no one could have convinced me that anything was more important than the outcome of that game. Thirty minutes later, I learned that nothing mattered less.

The details aren’t overly important, but ultimately another car of fans from the other team had engaged in some gestures and inappropriate words at a gas station, raced onto the interstate to get ahead of us, and after I switched lanes, the driver slammed on his breaks right in front of our vehicle while we had been traveling between 65- 70 MPH on a busy four lane interstate. I panicked, hit my brakes, and swerved. I lost control. I listened to my five friends scream for me to stop--to please stop, and God, I wish I could have. We began rolling. Eventually the car came to a stop in a median but there wasn’t 6 of us in the car anymore, there was only five. Her boyfriend immediately screamed for her, and the next thing I remember was finding her lying next to the northbound lane of traffic. She’d been tossed 20-30 feet from the tumbling car. She was unconscious. She was lying next to the interstate and looked lifeless and I will never be able to forget that. I managed to find someone’s phone and called my dad and told him I rolled the car and she was dead. I really thought she was dead. The driver’s door was dented in so far that it didn’t open. I don’t remember getting out of the car or how I did, I don’t remember what everyone was doing, I can’t tell you how much time passed until the police and firefighters and ambulances arrived, another passenger later told me that I was walking around screaming that I was sorry over and over again. A lot of people stopped, and for that I am forever grateful.

I sat in a ditch, with glass in my ears and in my hair and in my shoes, and in my mouth, I was covered in dirt and mud and blood, two of my best friends were being taken away in ambulances, and my entire life was just swirling around me. The lights were bright, people were frantically running all over the scene, traffic was backed up in both directions, and my world was crashing down. The other three friends/passengers held me together. If they wouldn’t have been so strong, I’m not sure what I would have done.

We waited in the emergency room lobby for hours. We finally got to see our other friends, who were in trauma rooms. They were hardly recognizable behind the wires and IVs and it was indescribable to see them that way and think, “I did that. That is my fault.” I didn’t sleep that night but at some point I managed to drift off for a bit, only to be woken up to speak to an insurance agent, and for a second I was sure that it wasn’t real. It was the ultimate nightmare, but when I sat up in bed, the soreness quickly brought me back to Earth and I was reminded that it was all a reality.

“Are you okay?” became something of a joke to me because I didn’t remember what okay was supposed to feel like. That question was typically met with tears and an apology for not being able to speak. I went back to school and sat next to their empty desks because they weren’t strong enough to return yet. I can’t tell you how badly I wished to trade places with them.

There was a pending court case over a citation, but it was dropped and some closure was issued. We shared what each of us remembered and pieced together the situation. We got together with our parents, who explained what it felt like to get the phone calls that they did. One parent explained that they came upon the scene and thought that they’d be planning a funeral instead of a graduation party.

Each month when they 14th came around, I realized that there were fewer sleepless nights. The pills took away the nightmares and the tremors. Eventually I drove a car for the first time since the accident. Normal wasn’t the same that it was before, but things were fitting into a new normal.

It’s remarkable to have someone look you in the eye and say, “You should not be alive. People don’t get in accidents like this without at least one casualty,” and realize that the six of us were put on this Earth to serve a purpose. All six of us healed. We cried together, we laughed together, we went to prom together, we graduated together, and we went our separate ways to different colleges, where each of us is thriving, by the grace of God. I thank him every day, twice a day, for the angels that he sent to mile marker 62 on that night.

A lot of people aren’t as blessed as I was, as we were. I know a lot of people have it significantly worse. It may seem ridiculous to some to dwell on this event because everyone was ultimately “fine,” but unless you were in the car I don’t think it’s comprehensible what it was like. I do not want sympathy or attention from this piece. I just hope that one kid with a new license reads this and remembers to put their seatbelt on. I hope you put your phone down, and lower the music a few notches. I hope you allow an extra 10 minutes to get where you're going. I hope you thank your parents and count your blessings. I hope you realize that you aren’t invincible and the “movie scene,” tragedy can be a reality in a matter of seconds. I hope you realize that life is fragile and it’s important to put into perspective what is truly important at the beginning of each day.