This is where I’m thinking of you.
At some irrelevant intersection at 3a.m.
One question I remember a philosophy teacher brought up one morning during a college lecture, “If you came to an empty intersection, with no cars approaching from either side, and it was red, would you stop? Or would you drive through?”
The answers in the class were different. Some said yes, and others opposed. Their reasons varied, touching on morals, or societal structures.
I have never given the idea much thought before. I never had to. But I always had one answer and that never changed. “It all depends.” What reason did one have to speed through the intersection; that those 30 seconds meant so much? What do I stand to gain by running through, and what do I risk losing?
It never really mattered much to me before. But I realized that really, it meant almost everything. I’m sitting here, telling you that I ran that light. I ran it once for you. When you most needed it. I would do it again.
I’m sitting here, telling you that if you needed me to, I’d run this light. But tonight isn’t that time. Tonight, as I look at your mom in the passenger seat, and see you asleep in the rear view mirror, I’ll sit here for however long, because right now, what I risk to lose, is everything.