About a year go, my mother was innocently driving home from Ross. She stopped at a seemingly empty intersection, with the only company being the yellow street lights. She looked left; she looked right. Nothing, it’s all clear. She pushed the pedal and made a left turn towards a street leading home. All of an instant, in less than a millisecond, the sound of crunching medal pierced the silence of an empty night. The sound echoed throughout the night sky. Eventually, the entire scene was flooded with blue and red flashes of blinding sirens. Everything had become a disaster. Everything had become a raucous. Everything had become a drunk driving court case.

You see, as my mother swerved her car on her way home, a drunk driver had zoomed his way through the intersection and hit HEAD ON my mother’s car. His headlights weren’t even on, I believe. No wonder my Mom saw nothing. I remember a photograph of the car accident, but I don’t believe my father holds it into his filing cabinet. Our Blue Toyota ‘97 was a wreck. And what was more of a miracle was that my mother had escaped the hunk of metal with only scrapes, bruises, and a swollen lip. I’m not really sure of the drunk imbecile, whether he was alive, or dead, but what I was sure of, was my Mom living for another day.

To this day, the very image of that photo of our crushed Blue Toyota haunts my Mom’s presence. And to go to court for the very disaster today was even more provoking, she was reliving her nightmare through a jury. She was reminded of every single moment of the accident through her mind before the case began. I’m not sure of the details, once more, but I believe that very idiot drunk driver was also invited to attend to present his case.

Who drinks and drives? Idiots, that’s who.