Returning from Sabbatical (I)



Back in October I experienced two traumatic events that made me step away from blogging for a while. I tried jumping back into writing, but it was evident by my inability to form sentences around my ideas that I needed time to heal my mind and body. I could not focus on creating content when I was suffering mentally. I felt it would be disingenuous to write about growth when I was dealing with the unimaginable. So here I am, ready to write. Ready to share. So, let’s begin.

On my way home in mid-October. I was stuck in rush hour traffic, the buzz of the city all around me. I was on the phone with my boyfriend when I saw two patrol units driving past me. In mentioning the units, I told my boyfriend that it’s never a good sign when you see two patrol cruisers driving together.


Within minutes, while stopped in traffic, sirens were blazing around me, helicopter above circling around as they do when they are searching for someone on the ground. I was startled by the amount of activity surrounding me. I immediately called my boyfriend and asked him to turn on the local news in an attempt to obtain information as soon as I could. To my shock, the news was not covering the circus unfolding around me.

It is terrifying to be trapped in this kind of situation. It’s the kind of event you witness on the local news living in Los Angeles or something out of a movie. I surely was not expecting that I would be living it.


As the traffic light cycled through, there were cars proceeding with caution and driving through the intersection to get out of harm’s way. I waited patiently and nervously as the cars ahead of me crossed the street, hoping that I too would be able to get away from the danger around me.  When it was my turn, there was a loud clash. It was hard to see what was happening since the sound came from up the street. The car ahead of me stopped abruptly before entering the intersection and in those few seconds I witnessed a person being dragged across the road as the perpetrator sped off in the bystander’s vehicle.


The thought of witnessing a person’s final moments is an awful sentiment, but witnessing it is paralyzing.  You see what is unfolding in front of you, hopelessly, and know deep down that the person will not survive the injuries they are sustaining. You stare in horror as cops race by and pray that the person will be okay. An inkling of hope goes through your body as you plead out loud for the driver to stop and save this innocent bystander. But that does not happen. They cannot hear you and hope is fleeting. I knew the fate of that person before I read the headlines or saw the update on the news.


The driver was pursued by authorities for a mile until they crashed, ending in a standoff until they gave up and were arrested. The innocent bystander had been carjacked when the individual authorities were in the process of trying to arrest crashed their vehicle, which was the clash I had heard.


Unfortunately, the shock of witnessing such a horrific scene put my body into overdrive. Before nightfall, my body would begin to miscarry the little nugget I unknowingly was growing.

Photo Credit: All pictures are Mari Rey Originals.