Two boys were walking on the sidewalk as I gathered my belongings to walk into my house. My first thought was, “I wonder if I know them.” (I work with a lot of youth as a social worker in the community.) My second thought was, “We’re making eye contact for far too long.”
The next thing I knew, I had a gun pointing just one foot from my head with only my car window blocking the gun from touching me. On a Friday afternoon at 4 p.m., I was carjacked in broad daylight, outside of my house, by two young boys.
Ever since this day, I’ve had invisible scars that are hard for some people to understand. I run to and from my car every day. I walk with an alarm around my neck. Some think time heals, and some think the feelings would go away if I moved. There are so many more layers that come with having a gun held to your head in a place that’s supposed to be safe for you. I am so lucky to be alive and physically safe. But what I do know is that my life was changed with one gun.