Amalia's stroller is missing.
Someone came up onto our porch in the middle of the night and took it.
I know this because it's not there anymore.
I realize that it's not there anymore in this awful suspended moment of time, it stretches out before me.
Dread.
Slow, weightless, breathless.
Then denial.
Then tears.
I have allowed myself to wallow in anger for a few days. I've kept busy with thoughts of terrible woes befalling the thief. I've called for plagues, terrors and regrets to torment him/her.
My husband wants me to forgive.
He mentions this as he washes the dishes.
I should forgive the person who did this.
The person who would steal a baby stroller needs my forgivness.
I'm trying.
It's not easy.
About Me
- Eva
- Hello and Welcome! I own the lovely Barefoot Contessa Boutiques in Vancouver BC. I live in the house I grew up in, with my Dutch Husband, a toddler, a newborn and a chihuahua named Henry. We sleep on floral sheets, use old china and bathe in a claw foot tub. The floorboards creak, the roof leaks, and the garden is untamed. I try to make something pretty each and every day.
We live in the west end...one day I came downstairs in my building where we kept our stroller and someone had made a HUGE #2 in the carriage. I was devastated.
ReplyDeleteI washed it down in detol and bleach, put the fabric into the washer 10xs. Two days later my husband found a homeless man trying to get out of the crawl space next to the stroller. He was pretty mad and pulled him out of the building.
As he was doing that he noticed the man was skin and bones and was wearing hospital clothing with bandages.
It seems he was released from the hospital and didn't know where to go. He had somehow gotten into the building and hadn't eaten in days.
Sometimes you just don't know why things happen. Forgiving is not easy (I'm one to talk), but you are the one that reaps the benefits.