Purse Snatchers

Typically when my mom and I go out we take the car. But for the sake of convenience we took my motorcycle on our mother-daughter date. 

The mid-afternoon drive home was quiet, our minds and stomachs were satisfied with good conversation and cupcakes, respectively. A few blocks from home my mom started to yell. I turned my head to see what she was yelling about and saw two young men driving extremely close to us. They were trying to grab my mom's purse. 

Before I could react, my motorcycle slipped from under me. It slid to the right as I skidded to the left on my palms. The two men sped off straight ahead. I looked back at my mom whom was lying on the concrete road moaning in agony. I jumped up and asked, "Are you ok???"
 

She nodded, still moaning with a bleeding face.

I ran and stood in the middle of the road and yelled as loud as I could at the backs of the two men as they disappeared into the distance. 

"ASSHOLES!
DAMN YOU!"

As soon as I heard myself I felt ashamed. I regretted cussing them out. Not because I didn't feel justified badmouthing the idiots who hurt my mother --I have never felt so validated to use those words in my life-- but because I saw them as they were: broken people. It hurt me to see people who valued things over people's lives.

My prayer is for healing. 

My wounds are healed. You can feel the soft new skin regrown on my left palm and see the scars on my hands and on my left knee. My mom's fractured pelvis is on the mend. Those two men? I don't know the state of their hearts but my hope is that in that split second when they looked back at my mom and me fallen and injured, they would feel ashamed. Maybe their consciences would revive their apathetic hearts and lead them to healing.

 

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They didn't get my mom's purse. My mom has a fractured pelvis and had to stay bed ridden for a month and a half. She wasn't wearing a helmet so thankfully no head injury. My motorcycle, aside from a broken mirror, is fine.