Letter: Trust lost, not just stuff
To the editor:
There is a thief amongst us. It is sad to say.
This letter is not meant to ask for contribution to my loss, but to let my neighbours know that there is a thief on our streets.
My loss was minimal, given that it was partly my fault. It was about one in a hundred chance. The one night I did not take my iPod out of my truck, lock my truck or turn on the outside light to deter the thieves.
We had a loss of a family member and I used my iPod for distracting myself from memories while I was out shopping for groceries for our guests. I forgot to lock my truck for the first time in months. I forgot to turn on the outside light, which I religiously do, each night before I go to bed.
That one night, a thief in our neighbourhood went through both my truck and my husband’s car, which was parked in the carport. As far as I can tell, we lost two iPods with car adaptors and who knows what else.
This letter is not about loss of material assets, it is about loss of trust. Today when we were out on our deck, I heard our neighbour’s teenagers swearing while they were out on their bikes and commented about how sad it is to think that it may have been them who were watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity.
It may have been them, it may have been strangers wandering the neighbourhood in the dark. Nonetheless, I have lost trust in our neighbours . It is an awful feeling thinking that they may come back for more, laying awake at night wondering who is out there.
When my children were young and could not account for something which they brought home, I marched them back to where it came from. That is the first thing that any parent should do before it escalates into bringing home bigger things like cars, etc.
It may have been an adult, who knows. Like I told the police when I reported the loss, I have no hope for retrieving my loss. But if someone out there has a change of heart, they can sneak back and leave it at the door or go to the police station.... I’m sorry to say, I am not holding my breath.
Nita Grass, Glenrosa