Sunday, September 11, 2016

Dear You

Dear You,

The one who smashed "the blue car" into bits.
I hate you.

Except, I really don't.

Hate is a word that I do not allow my children to use because for day-to-day living and in most situations, hate is too strong, too deep, too wounding of a word for what it means to just live life.

But you...

you who got into a car, shit-faced out of your mind, pulled out your phone, typed your friend a text while weaving down my street at one in the morning and as the air bags deployed...blasted yourself violently into my life.

You who threw off my week, my finances, my peace of mind, my plan, and me for a loop.

All of that and I don't even know you. 

Arrested on the scene with your third DUI, the only thing I really know is that instead of hating you, I should be grateful that our reliable, humble, gracious, old Honda took the blow alone and spared my family from being inside.

I should also be grateful that you were able to walk away to jail and not to a morgue.

I should count my lucky stars that there is such a thing as insurance and family members who let you borrow their car and loan you dough, if you need it.

I should run through all of the worst case scenarios of how it could have gone down, and stand in amazement that the angels were all with us that night, protecting everyone else on the road from your careless choice.

But I feel anger.  Just for a bit.  And, then I feel sad.  And then, I feel numb.

Most everyone I relay the story to tells me that your past is an indication that you won't stop, even if you lose your license for a very long time.

But praying in that pew at mass today, I believed that maybe this was your wake-up call and mine to do better.  To pick a different path.

I'm also not a fool.  Alcoholism is real.  It's not a farce or a thing to do better at.  It's a painful addiction that can destroy lives and bring families to their knees.  But for whatever reason, I think that people can change, only if and when they want to.

So, to you...

you out there, somewhere,

that my insurance company is trying to collect my deductible from...keep it. 

Use it to get better.  Know that there is a person out there that you have wounded who doesn't hate you or feel sorry for you or wish you would get your karmic comeuppance...this person is a mom with a family and a heart and a hope that this is the last time this ever happens in your life and in mine. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.