Damages

I'm sitting at my desk where my computer used to be, typing this on my iPhone. I have had a bad day.

Nick, Adrian, Teddy, and I were walking at the park while someone smashed my car window and took my backpack.

It was the first day I had ever put my laptop into my backpack. I had intended to do some work later while the boys were jumping at Sky High.

We ended up getting to Sky High an hour and a half late after reporting the theft to the police and tracking down the serial number to my computer. These people were so nice! Even our Groupon tickets had been stolen and the Sky High staff still let the boys jump for their two hours! I have to admit that their kindness made me cry.

As I waited for the boys, I made out a list of what I had lost, about $400 worth of other stuff. Thankfully, I'd been carrying my summer wallet and my check book in my pocket when we were out on the trail.

Here's the real problem. I feel the most upset about the things I lost that have little or no monetary value at all. It all reminded me of a short story I read years ago called 'The Things They Carried' about what soldiers carried with them.

I carried my favorite picture of my grandma holding a book in her hands. Next to her, I had one of my old dog, Indiana, laughing into the camera. I'll miss the succession of school photos of Nick that showed him growing up. Next to him, I had a twenty year old picture of Mike. People said he looked so young in the photo, but I always saw the same man as the one I know now. I had jammed the fortune from a cookie into it that said 'Happiness isn't perfect until it is shared.' Those pictures were in my main wallet.

Over the summer, I bought a tiny wallet that I could carry in a pocket for walks or time on the beach. It had just enough room for my ID and credit cards. Just yesterday, I had considered putting it all back into my main wallet and retiring the summer wallet until next year. I'm glad I waited. I will miss those pictures though.

My backpack also held the Swiss army knife that Nick gave me for Mother's Day. He got me a glow in the dark one, he had said, so I could find it in the dark if I dropped it.

I lost my favorite scarf, a tan and orange wool one that Mike's mom had bought for him before she died. She would have liked how many times Nick ended up wearing it when he hadn't dressed warmly enough for the weather.

I lost a notebook that I was half done writing. Nick had drawn some pictures for me in it. Worse yet, I'm mortified to think of this person reading what I wrote just as I woke up in this morning. Mike, in all earnestness, said it would probably end up in a garbage can somewhere instead and that was some small relief.

Okay, it was just stuff. No one was hurt. We had backed up our computer not too long ago. We can change passwords. I keep trying to tell myself it could have been so much worse.

There's one more thing, though. That thief stole my Christmas spirit.

Thank you for listening, jb