On Wednesday evening, just after supper, I was at home alone working on this wee meditation pillow when my shed was broken into from the back alley side. I know that it happened after I got home because I had taken the garbage out when I returned from work, then made dinner and then settled into my sewing room. My neighbour from across the alley knocked on my door at 8:30 to tell me that the shed door was open. When I went outside to check two things were apparent: 1) the handle was still locked, as though the door was forced, and 2) the mitre saw I borrowed from one of our land-partners was gone.
I had a moment of distress and not knowing what to do – but then I closed the shed, made sure the studio was also locked, went in the house and called the police (I normally wouldn’t call over something that small – but I wanted it recorded for insurance). Then, as I waited for an officer to return the phone call I returned to finishing the pillow. After nine, I started working on piecing a quilt for my daughter’s graduation/moving into residence gift – figuring that it was unlikely that I was going to hear back from the VPD at all. At ten, an officer called me and was outside of my house – he came through and took a look at the shed, showed me how it had been forced and said “lots of break-ins around here, but for the record, very little violent crime – get a deadbolt”). It was a simple transaction, I got my file number, and at some point I need to call it into our insurance company. The officer seemed apologetic that there wasn’t much to be done – but as we both knew, that saw was already on its way to the scrap metal yard across the bridge.
My partner is away for work, Wednesday was his first night gone, and I was surprised at how un-upsetting the whole thing was, despite the fact I was alone and had to deal with the interruption on my own. I let the neighbours know, made sure the house, studio and car were locked up tight, and I went right back to what I was working on. I’m going to have to replace that saw and that annoys me, and a deadbolt will get put on the door – but otherwise? A small event, incongruous with my calm and quiet evening, but still nothing to get upset about.
could it be, that if we are lucky and practice diligently, that as we age our need to create drama dissipates? ain’t it fine?
Yes, that was my thought. Observing things come and go – at least the small things – without drama. I’m not so sure about whether that’s possible with the bigger things yet 🙂