Today gave me a real scare. I was on my way somewhere when suddenly the vehicle I was riding started swerving. Not just once—but several times. It felt like we were seconds away from tipping over. It was going way too fast for comfort, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
I froze. My hands were cold, my heart was racing. I looked out the window, and for a moment—just one moment—I told myself:
“Lord, if this is it… don’t bring me back. Just let it be quick.”
That thought scared me even more than the ride.
I kept looking at the driver, trying to make sense of what was happening. There was nothing on the road to avoid. No sudden obstacle. No sharp turn. That’s when it hit me—did he fell asleep? He didn’t brake. He didn’t swerve to avoid anything. It just… happened.
I tried to stay calm, but I could feel my hands shaking and my breath getting shallow. That kind of fear—the kind where you realize how quickly things can change—really sticks with you.
What really made it worse is that I am solo in this country. No family, no familiar faces to run to if things go wrong. That moment made me feel how vulnerable I really am here.
And you know what? I could have said something.
I could have asked the driver what the hell happened.
I could have scolded him for risking our lives.
I could have demanded an explanation.
But I didn’t.
I just looked at him and said, “Thank you.”
Not because he deserved it.
Not because I wasn’t angry or afraid.
But because in that moment, I was just grateful to still be standing.
Life’s Little Wake-Up Calls
Looking back, I can’t stop thinking about how fragile everything is. One second you’re just riding, scrolling on your phone or lost in thought—and the next, you’re gripping your seat, hoping you’ll make it home.
It reminded me of how we take everyday moments for granted. How we assume we’ll always arrive safely, that there’s always more time, that things will just go as planned.
I don’t know why I was spared today. But I’ll take this moment as a reminder. But life throws these sudden wake-up calls—not to scare us, but maybe to remind us:
- To slow down sometimes
- To check in on ourselves and the others
- To say thank you when we get home safe
- And to live a little more mindfully, even in the ordinary
If you’ve ever whispered a surrender like that, just know you’re not alone. You’re still here too. And maybe that means something.
Until next time,
—Me