I’ve lost count of the times my mom has told me to “be careful.” I run out the door to my car, rolling my eyes, giving her words no hint of validation. But now her words ring somber and more valid than ever before.

As teenagers, we often forget we’re capable of dying. Our youthful inexperience may be our biggest foe — preventing us from realizing that life is fragile and may be broken in one fleeting moment of misdirection.

We tend to live like we have an “S” emblazoned on our chests — as though we suddenly can snub a lead bullet. But it’s just not so. Four boys reminded us of this on Jan 5.

So now the big question: What are we going to do now? Will we really learn from this heartbreak?

Or continue as though it didn’t happen? After all, that would be the easier path to plod. It’s much more fun to think we’re superheroes instead of china that’s too easily chipped or shattered.

In a perfect world we would learn, but our world is not so perfect. Although it’s possible some will make changes, the reality of those changes being permanent is questionable.

But at least we at least have to try.

Can’t we become more cautious?

The basic “don’t speed” and “buckle up” from authority figures doesn’t seem to sink in like it should, so what if the forewarning comes from one of us?

What if it comes from one of our best friends?

Or from the still, empty chairs next to us now in our classrooms?

I know I’m no saint. I’m not even close. But I’m issuing a challenge: Let’s do better.

I’ve already talked with some of you. I’ve heard you say you’ll slow down. You’ll be safe. Or if you speed, you’ll be careful. I sincerely hope you will be safe.

I’ll try better, too. And before I fly out the door, I’ll look at my mom and make her a promise. With a smile of reassurance, I’ll tell her “I will.”