March 2010
Monday, March 8th, 2010
Recently crime caught up to our little community.
Missing
“What’s that at the end of the driveway?” I heard my husband ask as I was entering the living room. My gaze moved to the brightening scene outside the front window and settled on the solitary dark blob on the paved road. Wrong shape for a raccoon. And too still. “I don’t know.” I walked over to the large rectangular window across the room from where he nestled in his easy chair. “Looks like a backpack. Maybe it fell off a neighbour’s stroller last night while they were out walking.” They must have gone by in the dark when the drapes were closed. Strange though. It’s so dark outside with no streetlights that we usually see the flashlight. Aware that only a few cars were likely to pass by that day, I decided, “I’ll go get it after my coffee.”
I tugged my fluffy pink bathrobe tighter to fend off the cool air and stepped out onto the front porch a few minutes later. Chirping birds instantly announced my arrival and a small animal in the nearby grove of salal and fir scurried away with a scratching noise. While I was making my way along the concrete to the gate, quiet returned to the yard and the washed out blue sky draw my eye. Another beautiful day on the way. When the soft bang of the gate closing behind me sounded like a sudden gunshot, wild twittering rose from the treetops. Stop it you guys. Somebody will catch me dressed like this. My gaze darted to the few houses on either side of ours on our short street. Good. Nobody outside. As soon as my shoes crunched on the driveway, a single woof over on the next street declared otherwise. I smiled, pictured the local dogs, recalled their names and homes, and wondered who was on guard duty. Then I reached the khaki-coloured canvas rectangle. Some sort of designer bag. Somebody’s sure going to want it back. But why’s it open? I’ll look for ID when I get back inside.
Shortly afterwards, nostalgia gripped me as I held up a tiny white terry jumpsuit. About three to six months I think. But who knows, it’s so long since my children were this size. I refolded it carefully and tucked it back inside the stuffed bag of clean baby clothes and diapers. Better check all these small interior and exterior compartments. A slight frown creased my forehead. Funny they’re open…no ID, just baby odds and ends. But it has to belong to the young mother around the corner. She must have been rummaging through it before it was lost. I better phone her right away or she’ll be packing the two babies around looking for it. Discovering soon that it wasn’t hers, my eyebrows shot up. Her voice teased that she thought I’d called to solve their little mystery. “What mystery?” Hearing that her husband’s sunglasses were missing from his truck this morning, I thought, that’s strange too. Then she said that he never locks it and I shrugged. Oh, that means anyone could have taken them anytime. We listed the few families with babies in the neighbourhood, ended the conversation on a cheerful note, and I set out to phone them. When I finished talking to the last one, a puzzled frown spread across my face. “I guess…I guess I’ll put up notices. It must belong to some walker from the area or a visitor.”
Later that afternoon, the phone rang and I ignored it. My head jerked up when my husband appeared in the office doorway and said, “It was hers. She’s coming for it in a while.” My brain managed to fight its way completely out of the novel that I’d been writing. I watched his eyes narrow as he explained, “She didn’t realize that her car had been broken into too. They found out that his drill and bits and some other stuff’s missing too.” I blinked. Someone was stealing things?
Nothing like this had happened in our close community for years and a sense of uneasiness gripped me. When reports of more vehicle doors and gates left open and missing things began to circulate, outrage took hold of me. My eyes blazed at the thought of predators roaming our quiet subdivision in the wee hours of the morning: brazenly approaching vehicles right near our doors and sneaking around outbuildings in our back yards. How dare some lowlife take my neighbour’s hard-earned possessions, keep anything they can get a quick penny for, and toss the rest out of their vehicle window like it was garbage! This is our community! We care about each other here!
Even though our home had been spared, my heart went out to neighbours as they told of losses and complained about having to lock houses now. I felt a twinge of sadness as we made plans to check more closely on strangers and note anything out of the ordinary. Bad things happen to good people, I sighed, and something deep within me replied, but good can come out of bad. Surprised by the idea, I wondered, what good could possibly come from this? It occurred to me then that neighbours were talking more, caring more, and taking each other less for granted. Good neighbours have become better neighbours. That’s good, isn’t it? I guess when it comes down to it, we may not have the power to stop bad things from happening to others but we all have the power to make good things happen. Maybe we should start with becoming a better neighbour.
Sun filtering through trees across the street from our house.
