On the eve of Christmas Eve, I went out for a girls' night of dancing with my sister and our friend, Sharon. Little did we know that we would find a broken passenger window on my vehicle when we were ready to leave. (Yes, Eric, you have to hear this story one more time.)


I couldn’t believe it. Come to realize that I had stupidly left my purse partially exposed behind the passenger seat. How careless.


I was however, fairly lucky. I had taken my ID and some cash out of my wallet and given it to my sister to hold in her purse. I stuck my wallet under the front seat of my car. Those lazy bums didn’t find my wallet. So at least my credit cards and cash were not harmed. That could have been much worse.


Despite the semi-expensive items in my purse that isn’t what shook me most. I had three flash drives full of things I had created. Graphics I’d designed, poems, prose, stories I’d written. My heart ached for days over them. It still makes me want to punch someone in the neck.


But what can you do. Nothing, but place a police report over the phone because apparently in San Antonio the officers are too busy with more threatening issues. I suppose I understand that, but when your life’s work is in the hands of someone I can only imagine has horns, a scary thin mustache and is rubbing their hands together greedily, you really just want some justice. Or at least the hopes that those flash drives were just thrown in the garbage.


When I got to a computer I did check my online back ups and found that I may have only missed a few weeks of the work I’d put into my writing. It helped settle me a bit.


On that particular night confused in the parking lot, my sister said something that made me laugh at first, but eventually sunk in. She said that she would like to believe that the person who did it was desperate and trying to provide for their children. Perhaps his/her family was in the dumps, hungry or distraught for other horrible yet possible reasons.


I decided to bank on that. Maybe this person needed these things more than I did? Most of the items could easily be replaced. So, now while a small sour patch still sits in the pit of my stomach as to who holds my writing, I let go of it a bit more each day. Possibly the electronics made great Christmas gifts to children who deserved them. I’m still quite skeptical, but it puts a positive spin on this dismal situation.


I’ve taken this “Bad Juju” and turned into good. Well, I’m trying.

JESSICA M. MACHADO is the Pleasanton Express webmaster. She may be contacted at jmachado@pleasantonexpress.com