In the small village in Mexico where I was raised, I grew up with the fears and superstitions of spiritualism, believing evil was the only power. During that time, it seemed normal for me to have car accidents. I thought it was my fate, since I’d been told that life held nothing good for me because I was cursed, and that everyone hated me. These were the beliefs that governed my thoughts.
Several years ago, although I felt I did not deserve a new car, I decided to buy one. One day while driving my new SUV, I was involved in an accident in Tijuana. I was stopped at the end of a long line of cars, waiting for the red light to change, when someone crashed into the back of my car. The force pushed me forward, and I hit the car in front of me.
Startled, I got out of my car to see what had happened. The front end of the car behind me, a sedan, was badly damaged, and my car had damage to both the front and rear end. I smelled alcohol on the driver, and I saw that he had his wife and four children in the car. One of the children was injured, but another driver was able to administer first aid, and the boy began to breathe again. Then a couple of police officers came, and an ambulance took the boy and his mother to the hospital. The police took the driver to their car to give him a Breathalyzer test.
