Memoirs of a Theif

I was able to come home last night. I haven’t been in my own bed, taken a real shower, or eaten my own food for the last 13 days. It’s such a relief to walk into my own place and throw everything on the floor as I land on my bed ready to crash. It’s the relief that I don’t have to pick up after anyone but myself, nor do I have a deadline to do it by. Instead I can keep my suitcase on the floor opened with clothes spilling out of it, while my shoes lay hopelessly on the floor rug next to it waiting to be organized and placed on their shelves. A few days ago you could walk into my home and feel it empty and cold, but now you would see it looking like it’s been robbed as things are thrown everywhere.

The image of things thrown everywhere is something I associate being robbed with. The home I lived in till age nine had been robbed several times growing up and I have never forgotten how much of a mess the thieves left the place in each time. Drawers hung loose from the dresser with clothes hanging out of them, bedspreads had been disheveled as things were thrown on the bed and large piles formed of anything that possibly got in the way of the intruders before they exited my childhood home. I don’t recall what they made away with, but whether their hands were full or not, our hearts were empty and destroyed feeling a part of us were stolen and invaded each time.

A few years later and 2000 miles away my family lived in a different home….a much larger home in a much smaller town. My world was changed as I had to make new friends and experience public school for the first time in my life. Life was simple back then as each day I exited the large yellow bus that dropped neighborhood students off in front of my house. Usually my mom was there to greet me as I walked into the house ready to play for the remainder of the afternoon until dinner was ready for the family. There were times, however, that my mom would substitute at the local junior high school and I would come home to a large empty house. It was those days I didn’t particularly enjoy. If she had to work that day I was asked to call down to her school and notify the secretary that I made it home safely as she would pass the word on to my mother.

One lonely afternoon I came home knowing that it was a day to call my mom down at her school. However, I didn’t really want to stay home and be alone that afternoon. I wanted her to come home and entertain me like all mothers should do with their 10-year old sons. It was then that things started spinning in my head. How exactly could I get my mom to come home and play with me? I proceeded up the stairs to survey the bedrooms and see what I could do to stage a robbery in our house. I mean come on; I vividly remember what robberies look like from our years living in the other house. Walking around from room to room I debated what I should pick up and hide in my room pretending it had been stolen. As any 10-year old can say, go after your older brothers soccer trophies. After all they’re real gold on top right? Those solitary men in action are forever solidified in gold. So off the shelf they went and under my bed they calmly laid until I could carry out the full plan. Next I shuffled thru my father’s closet and took a few of his Hawaiian shirts. They seemed valuable to me as I believed they actually came from his Hawaii trip that was taken years earlier. My father seemed to like those shirts so I figured he would be devastated if he saw they were missing. Lastly came some of my mom’s jewelry. Not knowing what was significant or not I just grabbed some and hid them in my closet. Before I could place the hurried call to my mom that we had been robbed I messed up my parent’s bed and tore open a few dresser drawers leaving plenty of clothes hanging out. Just like the thieves did in the former home.

Letting a few minutes pass I placed the call and told the calm lady who answered the phone that I needed to speak to my mom who was substituting that day. It was an emergency. I honestly don’t recall if someone went to get my mom or if she had to call me back but nonetheless she quickly packed up and came to my rescue. With heavy footsteps she surveyed the entire house top to bottom seeing what had been stolen. She asked many questions to which I frantically answered pretending I didn’t know a thing. We walked thru my bedroom and my sister’s bedroom noticing that nothing had been touched. We walked into my brother’s room and I pointed out, “I think his trophies are missing!” We paced into my parent’s room to see the mess the robber had made of their room and took note of any valuables.

Now for those not used to being robbed it is often that you have no idea what has been taken until you think of that specific item one day and go find it only to come up empty handed. I knew I was safe for the time being that we couldn't pinpoint too many things missing at the current moment.

After surveying the house for some time my mom had decided that the intruder had possibly gone away empty handed himself. I mean....themselves. At this point we didn’t know if it was one person or two, much less a male or female. Only two bedrooms had been touched, and not a single thing downstairs was missing like the television, VCR or even the microwave. Of course back in those years everything was much larger in size compared to today's electronics. Who in the world, back then, would be able to carry out a microwave or television when in a hurry is what I've always wondered.

To be continued.....