J and I returned home from watching Ry’s last Imaginastics class. It was about 2;00pm on a bright, sunny day. As I approached the door, it appeared open. It took me more than a few seconds to realize the door had been broken into and the deadbolt lock was broken. I didn’t know if someone was in the house or out. I called the police, trying to appear calm. J didn’t seem particularly phased by what was going on.
Officer T came over. He and I had been classmates many years ago. He came up with me to look around. Interestingly they failed to get an old lap top, made a mess of some of my wife’s jewelery, took a backpack of mine, but emptied out an appointment book and flash drive that I needed. In total, it appears they got two Ipods, loose change in a change bowl, and most importantly the brother’s bank. This is an empty water cooler bottle that we have filled up with change and some loose dollars. That one hurt.
Ry has been talking about it since he came home. I don’t really know the best way to reassure him. Because I’m still so pissed off. I hate the thought of someone watching us and breaking into our space. In the seven years, we’ve been here-nothing like this has ever happened. I hate that I have to feel more focused on what is happening in and around the house. We have to change the locks and secure our space more. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but my first reaction is to leave.
The worst part about this is not the missing Ipods, not the brothers bank, not getting a call in the midst of it that my mother was being discharged from the hospital-it was that our home had been tampered with. Our home was a safe zone for all of us. The boys felt free to play, roam, and express themselves. And then suddenly without warning, some creeps have to invade our serenity. Why? I haven’t a clue.
What must go through someone’s mind to do that in broad daylight? And for what? I can’t imagine any sane person doing such a thing. I can imagine someone desperate for drug money. I can imagine a teenager looking for an adventure. And I can imagine someone angry and envious of the way we live. I’m trying not to dwell on the why’s. My mind wonders about whom might be responsible. But it sure seems like alot of work for very little.
What they did succeed at was dampening our spirits for part of the day; making my son worry that the world is not as safe as he imagined it to be; caused us to get our door repaired and consider greater security measures; and they disrupted our lives for an afternoon. It can not kill the greater spirit that exists within our family, but for today, they inconvenienced our lives.
I don’t know what it means, but we concluded our day by playing Candyland in the kitchen. There were two pieces of 2×4 boards on the kitchen door for temporary security. My wife suggested we write on it, like it was a cast. So Ry started scribbling. With Ry starting to read, I beleive I have to be careful about what I write.
4wrdthnkndad
