Backseat Driver

I hate being a passenger. It's stressful for me to have no control over a situation, especially when my life hangs in the balance. I'd always rather be the driver, all things solely my responsibility: radio, temperature, speed, direction.

The rain is pelting the roof of the car with a vigor normally reserved for brawling young boys. The sky wants to swallow us and the road is rife with opportunities to hydroplane. As I unclench my hands from their death grip on the armrest, I shut my eyes and let the water ricocheting off the paddleboard drown out the thoughts in my head.

I left my job. 

I lost my girls. 

My life is careening out of control.

I'm moving back to - IS THAT LIGHTNING?!

I take it back. I should be grateful to take the backseat on this one. To not deal with hydroplaning and fatigue, to just sit back and trust that my Dad will keep me safe. He knows where we're going, he loves me, and he's going to protect me. 

I just have to learn to enjoy the ride on the passenger side.