
Where to begin...its been a hard week folks, one that I wasn't sure I would share here, but decided to after some careful thought. Sometime yesterday, using a crowbar to pry our front door open, someone broke into our house, and burglarized our home. They walked in our house...they were in our house...they went through our things. Thank God I met no intruder as I walked in with the kids yesterday afternoon. As we put down library books and mail, I saw wood splinters all over the floor by the front door and luckily had the wits about me to immediately escort the kids safely back out of the house, shoeless and coatless, and over to our neighbor's house.
I knew...I knew...
The police came shortly after and did a thorough search of the house before I could safely reenter. Then I saw...cabinet doors left wide open, boxes everywhere turned upside down, drawers pulled open. Like someone punching me in the stomach over and over. Treasured fingerpaintings done by my kids, scattered all over the floor. Ian's wooden treasure box, full of special rocks found on walks through the forest and a small harmonica, turned upside down and dumped out.
Yes, things were taken (my beloved camera)...family jewelry...the usual things...whatever they could easily carry and sell. But you and I both know these are just things. Yes Jen, we shouldn't cry over things that don't cry over us. My family is okay, that's what really matters. But there is so much irony running through my mind right now. Like the conversation Peter and I had about getting a stronger lock on the front door just last week (which we now have...a day too late) and how Ian was counting ADT security signs around town yesterday (this has never come up with him before...ever). He will now have something like that to count in his own front yard...again, a day too late.
The irony that I was thinking about what memories will be etched in the blueprint of our children's minds.
I can't help feeling as if everything in the house feels stained. My first instinct is to clean everything. Plus I'm feeling a lot of anger that I can't do much with. I'm angry that I was naive enough to think this would never happen to us (let's face it, I'm a southern girl from North Carolina...as a child we never even locked doors). I'm angry that I have to reassure my kids that they will be ok when they go to sleep tonight, that the people that came in our house weren't trying to harm them. "No sweetie, they didn't take our food, or your stuffed animals, or they book you were reading...its still there."
I'm angry that I feel as if I need to grieve something.
To make a long story short, I'm taking a couple of weeks off from the blog. Life needs me elsewhere right now. You can count on me being back though. I don't dwell on things like this, I move on. You all have been so kind, so supportive, of everything that goes on here, I wanted you to know. Thanks for your understanding.