My car now has a small dent in the back bumper to match the dent in my wounded pride. Although I was initially tempted to be frustrated with my husband (who hadn’t cleaned out his half of the garage to be able to keep a vehicle inside), I had to admit that the accident was no one’s fault other than my own. Each time I see the dent I am reminded of how quickly accidents can happen—and the need to be more alert to my surroundings.
My oldest son has a driver’s license. As I waited for him to meet me at a doctor’s appointment soon after that incident, I suddenly realized that for the rest of my life, I will be wondering where he is, and whether he’s safe. I’ve learned important lessons in “letting go,” but am becoming more aware daily that a parent’s job is never really done. I agonized so long over my son completing his practice hours, and then taking the test to get his driver’s license, that I never really thought about what it would really mean to have him driving independently.
Thankfully, he has been a very careful driver, and has not yet had an accident. Hopefully my incident will help temper my response if ever he does have an accident, as I have personally experienced the reality that it can happen to anyone!
And now that I’ve given myself this pep-talk, I can proceed through driver’s training with my second son. He’s already been told by his instructors that it’s always better to not be the first driver in a family—apparently other moms and dads tend to relax more with subsequent children, too!