By Jessica Brock
I’ve had many childhood lesson, but none as frightening as starting the New Year with a bomb coming into my house.
It was New Years’ Eve, of December 2012. Picture a happy family, sitting in front of a TV, watching a family friendly movie. Suddenly, you hear a loud crash, like something hit glass, then broke. That picture happened to me, and it was scary.
Fortunately, my father, whose usually working in our multi-room, came to join us. At first, all we hear is laughter outside across the street, then it gets quiet until we don’t hear anything. Suddenly, we hear a loud crash bursting into our multi-room. We all yell, then hit the floor, not knowing where it came from or what it was.
We all crawl into our hallway, and my dad, the brave one, goes into the multi-room, thinking it came from there. He then reports to us what it looked like, then said that he was going to call the police. Trying to lighten up the bad situation, my mother jokingly said, “Wow, this neighborhood’s gone ghetto.” We all laughed, but fortunately, we were blessed to be in a nice neighborhood with friendly neighbors. Something like this hasn’t happened to us before. Soon, the police come, even though our family didn’t call them.
What was amazing about this situation was that, usually my whole family doesn’t come to watch a movie with us. My father is usually working on his laptop in our multi-room, and God saved his life. The bomb came into our house right where he was supposed to be working. Otherwise, who knows where my father would be right now.
I’ll cut to the end. Basically, the police confiscated the broken pieces, went around the neighborhood, and got some answers. The story was, a man from the neighboring house across the street unfortunately had too much to drink, and had went a little crazy. He had some old firecracker/military bombs from who-knows-where, and decided that it would be fun for the little children to see a bomb with a pipe fly into other peoples’ houses. So, that’s exactly what he did. He placed a bomb into a broken pipe, to shoot it upward, and then it exploded. Remnants (shrapnel) went everywhere, including our garage and multi-room, and had it not been the grace of God, my father would’ve been dead.