Today I got to experience something I never thought I would have to experience, and pray I'll never have to repeat. My parents have been on vacation, and like a good daughter I took in my childhood dog quite willingly and made twice-daily trips out to their house to feed the barn cats and water my Mom's many flower pots.
This morning was no different until I rounded the corner of the house headed for the back door and the glass from the door was in a huge, shatterd, shardy pile on the top step. The door was standing wide open. Cats were in the house. My heart stopped. At first I thought maybe the storm this morning had blown something into it but as I told myself that was stupid, I saw the marks around the dead-bolt and the inside pane of glass pushed away from the door. I stood there on the patio just looking at the mess for a minute. Break-ins are one of those things you think always happen to other people. My parents house, the house I grew up in, the house I left to go to college, and came back to when things were going wrong, the house I spent holidays and the night before my wedding in, had essentially be violated. It made me feel sick. But it didn't take long for my practical side to kick in and make me realize there was no way I was going in that house alone (because obviously robbers could still be there at 9 am).
I first called my aunt, who didn't answer her phone. Then my uncle, who was driving through Cincy at that point. I walked to the neighbors house. They had already left for the day. My husband was at work 40 minutes away. I was trying to figure out who else I could call that could be there quick when my aunt called back. She was there in a matter of minutes and together we called the cops and braved what used to be a window to see what damage had been done in the house. It wasn't too bad. Just the tv's, and the laptop, the wii, some beer and 2 2-liters of Mountain Dew is all that's missing. Nothing ransacked, and nothing broken aside from the door. Nothing that can't be replaced, except maybe my parents' sense of security for awhile, and a memory I never wanted.
At some point during all of this I called my parents and broke the news to my Dad. I've relayed the story to them and the conversations I had with the very helpful detective at least 3 times. My husband and I are sitting in their house and they're on their way home, their vacation cut short by someone who doesn't respect other people's property. On one hand, it's sad that there are people in the world who don't know better than to think that breaking in to someone's home and taking their belongings is ok. On the other, it's infuriating. My parents are good people. They would do what they could to help someone, if asked. They work hard for the things that they have, and they've worked hard to make this house their home. I don't understand what makes people think they have the right to break in to someone else's home and take their stuff!! And maybe we'll never know who the culprit is, but I sure hope someday, someone sets them on a better path than they're on now.
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