Last week, I was at a professional coaches conference. One night, walking back from dinner with colleagues, we were strolling along the sidewalk at a leisurely pace.

A car passed us on the left and, just ahead, a woman stepped off the curb. In an instant, the two met. There was a screech of brakes and the sound of a crunching blow.

I saw her airborne for an instant.

Then, it was strangely quiet, which concerned me. No crying or screaming. Nothing.

In a strange collusion without words, several of us moved forward. There were two large cement planters with full grown trees in them. The woman had disappeared into or in between them. We had no idea where she had landed, or her condition.

When we arrived, she was actually sitting up between the planters (lucky woman, impact with one of them at any angle might have been deadly) but quite obviously in shock, staring vacantly and bleeding.

She didn’t know where she was or what had happened. She did not know her name.

As several people went into help mode, calling 911, attempting to talk with her, I noticed the driver of the car pacing frantically, beating himself on the head, in full anxiety attack and practically unable to breathe.

Instinct told me I’d be better help for him as our party contained doctors and several people were assessing the woman’s condition.

It was one of those visceral moments. I felt as if I was lifted out of ordinary consciousness and suddenly hyper-aware of the fine line between life and death.

For the woman, it was a matter of inches and her life might be over.

For the driver, new in town and at his job, he was driving a customer’s car while valet parking for a restaurant when this event shattered his everyday existence.

He envisioned losing his job, being forced to quit school, enduring the wrath of his parents, and probably many other terrible things happening to him.

Though I doubt anything turned out to be as bad as his mind was making up at that moment, there was no doubt change was in the air on that warm October night.

Was this a wakeup call for him and the woman he hit?

It was for me.

I sometimes get so caught up in the busyness and excitement of my life I completely forget to tune into the very real world. I could easily have been that woman, stepping off the curb, or that man, moving so quickly there’s no time to fully breathe, or accurately assess the immediate surroundings.

How much time do you spend unconscious, stepping off the curb without really thinking?