Our charming little home was violated on my birthday. Windows smashed, drawers turned upside down, items were stolen, our sense of security was shaken. I was in California, so Steve was forced to deal with the mess - and he did so, beautifully, magnificently, calmly... he is my rock.
We decided to proceed with our travel plans and although the trespass lingered in my mind there was beauty and wonders, dear family and friends to enjoy along the way. But I returned changed.
Most of our belongings were recovered and I was relieved that irreplaceable treasures were secure (Jack's watch, my grandmother's bracelet, my mother's cameo...). The damage was minimal and so an intensive tidying put most everything to rights.
As I was returning our possessions to their rightful places (a place for everything...); however, I was struck by just how much "stuff" we have. Putting it all back took days. This is ridiculous.
What did the thieves think when they broke through that back window? A treasure trove or, more likely, what a bunch of worthless junk. There truly isn't much worth pawning in our house. What they thought was worthy could be hauled away in a couple of pillow cases: a DVD player, some screw drivers, chisels, and my garden shears. Animated movies. Some of my jewelry. The old pickle jar of loose change that Steve kept on the dresser top. My Toshiba laptop that still runs Windows 2000. My bike (okay, the green beach cruiser is cool). But it's just stuff.
My real treasures can never be stolen: My loving family. My wonderful neighbors and friends who helped clean up the mess, put plywood over the windows, checked on the house while we were away. My beloved kitty. The love and support of the people that matter most.
I still have my stuff. I still enjoy my stuff. But my relationship to my stuff has been altered. Now, I need to take time to show the people in my life that they are more important than my stuff.
My mom made that cute little wreath. The painted plywood covers the former window. We might just leave it that way. Who knows?
