When I went out to my car yesterday to go to the grocery store, I found that someone had riffled through all my stuff. Back when I had a convertible, I learned that locking the car doors just led to expensive repairs, so I never remember to do it anymore and I don’t keep much of anything in my car in the first place, so I’m sure it was an exercise in both desperation and frustration for the person who did it. He or she did not take my buck or so in change, my Bluetooth headset, my few CD’s, or the couple of books. The FasTrak gizmo is still there. My iPod wasn’t in the car at the time, so I haven’t lost my sanity for gym time. I may be out a couple of Altoids, since the perpetrator left some scattered around the interior, but what is fresh breath between friends?
What I lost, temporarily, was invisible in the first place. I felt for a moment less safe, less confident that the world is okay. Then I got over it, or at least the selfish, scared part.
A person who must have been in dire straits tried to get by. That people feel like they need to do stuff like open up my car to see if there is anything valuable inside is the bad part. People don’t wake up in the morning and look forward to scrounging through other people’s stuff for enough to make it through the day. It is something they are reduced to.
And now I have been reminded that there are people in this very situation close to home. It can’t get much closer to home than my own driveway. I don’t know what to do about it yet, but something needs to be done.