Revisiting The Scene

I should’ve died in this intersection 15 years ago.

My wife and I were en route to downtown Coral Gables, less than a mile from the house we were leasing at the time, in search of an ice cream parlor of all things on an otherwise uneventful Saturday night. I was practically on auto pilot having (embarrassingly) made the same 8 p.m. run on this very same, very residential, 30 mph street more times than I care to admit in the preceding weeks (don’t judge me!).

We approached the intersection on a light governing travel in our direction that had been green from at least the distance depicted in this photograph - all the more reason I really didn’t give a second thought to traffic that may have been approaching in the opposite direction – that and my preoccupation with the cookies and cream waffle bowl that I knew was waiting for me (okay, now you can judge me!).

It’s impossible to effectively capture in words what happened next. A split second before we entered the intersection, I caught a glimpse of light in my peripheral vision closing rapidly to my left. I jammed the accelerator to the floor and missed, likely by a matter of inches, being T-boned by 4 teenagers traveling well in excess of 50 mph, who either didn’t see, were distracted, or simply decided for kicks to run a very red light.

I’ve handled enough high-impact auto accident cases over the years to know I would not have survived what would’ve been a direct hit on the driver’s door at that rate of speed. As it was, once it actually started to beat again, my heart took a few days to return to its normal rhythm. As for the driver in the other car? He and his three partying passengers never slowed down, let alone stopped.

I thought about that night as I passed – cautiously – through that same intersection last weekend and paused to take this photo. I thought about all I would’ve missed had it ended that night. My kids’ weddings, the births of and countless memories already made with my grandchildren, the writing of two books, the Legacy of Hope Summit, thousands of miles of walks, hundreds of hearts tended to, countless trips to the beach, etc.

And I wondered. Why was that night not my time? What have I left undone that still needs doing, unsaid in the millions of words I've spoken and written that still needs saying? "Funny" that, fifteen years later, less than a mile from that same intersection, in the cozy little shoebox I now call home, the answer to both questions would be placed on my heart. I can’t wait to share it with all of you and I will - soon.

Suffice it to say, I’ve never been more passionate about anything in my life (and that’s saying something)!