I don't know what to do.
Seems that when we came home from Christmas Eve services at mass, we discovered, to our horror, that someone had broken into our home and stole the gifts under the tree and trashed our livingroom.
We had purchased gifts for the family: toys for the children, Mp3 players and Ipods for the teenage members of the family, cologne and new shirts/pants for my husband, and stationary, health supplies, and perfume for my elderly, disabled mother. It was going to be a Christmas to remember.
When we stepped into our house, we were shocked to discover that all of the gifts were missing and that our tree lay on its side, along with racial slurs and epitaphs sprayed across our livingroom walls. I had Mike take the children upstairs while I surveyed the damage and cried like there was no tomorrow.
I immediately called the police and reported of the break-in at our place. Not even fifteen minutes later, our home was crawling with cops, who were taking fingerprints, taking photos, and asking questions. Endless questions, questions about whom we thought the perpetrators were, if we saw anything suspicious (we didn't; we told the police that we'd been at mass), or if we'd left the door unlocked or the lights out (we didn't).
It was earth-shattering; all I could do was put my face into my hands and sob uncontrollably as I thought of my family's faces when they found out that there would be no Christmas for us because some assholes had stolen our gifts and trashed our livingroom. Why they did this, the reasons were clear, but there was one thing that was evident: we were among the few Mexican families in an otherwise all-white neighborhood, and there were some people who did not like us because we were different from them.
Christmas morning was the worst. When I saw the disappointed, shocked faces of my family, I felt as if I had been stabbed. Slapped. They looked at me as if it had been my fault that this had happened, even when I tried to explain that it was not: I'd taken the necessary precautions to protect our house before we left for mass.
Now we haven't had Christmas, and suddenly, the season has taken on an entirely different meaning for us. Instead of joy and celebration, we are feeling vindicated, violated, and extreme anger towards the thugs who did this to me and my family.
*To be continued.*
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