...you're welcome. To the person that whatever has happened in your life that made you creep up my street in the dark, trying door handles until you found one belonging to the person that, just this once, was distracted going into the house last night and, just this once, forgot to grab her wallet... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that life has produced in you someone that creeps, someone that doesn't understand boundaries, that didn't consider how hard people work for what they have in this basic, run of the mill suburban neighborhood. This neighborhood is filled with houses built in the late 70's/early 80's, with a few scattered here and there built within the last five years, to replace homes destroyed by a tornado. Not that I ever condone stealing, but if you're a thief, stealing from a neighborhood that is obviously one in which people work hard for what they have somehow feels worse.
I used to be terrible about locking my car. I used to be terrible about leaving my purse in my unlocked car. As a result, I've had my purse stolen six or seven times out of my car, and have lost some important items that held dear value to me over the years. I accept full responsibility for this, what kind of idiot never remembers to take her purse in or lock her car? She's got two thumbs, and she's *this* girl. However, I learned my lesson... and on this night, I rushed into my house, on a phone call, distracted. I forgot to lock the car, and I forgot that my wallet was in the car because, just this once, I didn't have it in my purse (which was securely hanging from the door knob in my house.)
All of that being said, if the person that took the $16 in quarters and the debit card to a bank account with a balance of $9.27 had asked, I'd have given them all of it. The frustration here is that, due to recent life changes, I'm living a very tight life, tighter than I've ever lived, and that $16 was loose change I had been carefully saving for a specific purpose.
Because I cannot tell that person face to face why this was such a tragic event in my little life, I'm typing it here, where I type all of the things that I don't mind getting lost out on the interwebs, my little point of release that allows me to feel the feelings in words that so often get lost inside.
My last blog was about a big life change I made, one in which I left my husband with nothing but a few bags of clothes, a table, and a few kitchen items.
Since then, my entire life has changed. I've learned a humility I've never known before. I've had hard times, as we all have, but this is different. I struck out on my own, started from nothing, and now, through generosity, creativity, and sheer dumb luck, my house is fully furnished, including decor, and things are starting to look a little more promising. But having gone into a situation with not a lot of income flow right now, I've learned the value of a dollar.
Being that this is an open letter to the person that stole my $16 in loose change and my debit card for a bank account with a balance of $9.27, I'm going to say the things I wish I could say to your face. You, dear stranger, have a story I don't know. That $16 could have changed your life for the better... maybe you're a teenager with a single mother working three jobs and she needed $16 to get the electricity turned back on so that she can properly care for your three younger siblings. Maybe your father is ill and he needed $16 for a prescription that would take away the pain he so often lives with. Maybe... And if this is the case, had you asked... had you knocked and asked for any spare change, for any reason at all... I'd have given you everything I had, and made you dinner and given you good conversation to boot.
But more than likely, you had no need. More than likely, you think it's fun to creep up the street in the dead of night, checking car doors until you find one open, justifying your actions by reminding yourself that someone stupid enough to leave their doors unlocked deserves what's coming to them. You may be right, I may deserve this to serve as a reminder to lock my doors because people like you exist in the world.
But here's my little story. It isn't much... I don't have cancer, I'm not a widowed mother with six kids at home, starving to death in the dark. But it's a story, all the same, and hearing my story, or anyone's story (because we all have one) may give you that second thought necessary to stop you from stealing in the future. Why? Because I doubt seriously you're a bad person. I doubt you're someone that doesn't care, you just didn't stop to consider my story.
As a woman who recently left her husband, my finances are tight and my relationship with my children is spread thin. It's holding on by threads, and I'm working diligently to wind those threads into a rope with which I can reign back in my relationships. I work in an office, and in my spare time, I bake to make extra money on top of the little bit I make during the day. My bills come in the mail in the form of cutoff notices these days, and I'm constantly pushing dates and dimes and limits trying to find a way to make it all come together. This is a common story, so in no way am I trying to single myself out from the crowd... But you, stranger, probably empathize with this, even if just a little bit.
In winding those threaded strings of relationship with my kids, I have purchased two tickets to see a movie premiere that my son and I have been waiting a very long time to see, a date that we set a year ago and have been waiting patiently for ever since. I don't like my children to know my struggles, but they do at least know that money is tight. I already have the tickets, but the gas to drive the 160 miles round trip in order to take him to this movie is not easy to come by. I saved change for the gas to make this trip, and today is the day we have been waiting for. I got up, put on my geeky t-shirt commemorating the movie premiere, and set off for work, thrilled that I get to spend a few hours with my son doing something we both love, something that will strengthen that bond that's been weakening over the last several months. I got into my car and discovered that you, dear stranger, took my change, leaving me empty and unable to make that drive. If I had given you my story, stranger, if I had said to you in as many words, "I need this change, I have nothing. I need my kids. I worked hard to make this happen, as simple as it may sound." then, I do think, you'd have skipped over my car. That single moment of connection with someone you care nothing about may have been enough that you understood, that you also know what it's like to have nothing, and for every penny to mean something, for $16 to be all you have.
I do hope that my $16 helped you somehow, that you are able to get what you need in order to feel full and satisfied this close to the holidays, and I wish you the best.
Just know that when you take things, you're taking a lot more. You're taking life, and work, and effort, and hope in humanity. Just please remember the value, maybe it'll mean more to you as you spend it knowing that someone else needed it just as much.
