The Reboot – Most Unfortunate Event 3.0 ~ 10/30/22

Today is the 16th anniversary of a very unfortunate event. On October 30, 2006, when our home was invaded by a random marauder, I had no place to put all my emotions. On the 10th anniversary, I posted this short story length post, @4000 words letting loose all my angst into the cosmos. I didn’t do anything last year on #15. I’m weird about certain things. Sometimes I think milestones matter 5, 10, 15, 20 … then I think everyday is a holiday or should be! Sort of like the sentiment to use the good towels. Don’t wait for tomorrow because tomorrow isn’t promised.

I tell ya what, we were shaken-up which in hindsight we learned we needed desperately. Awakened from sleep walking through life doing what we thought was expected. Not really living, simply existing. For a while afterwards, we were on our best behavior. As time went by, the memory fades & complacency snuck in. As part of my evolution to a better mental well being, I’m re-writing the story. Not changing the meaning but refining the prose.

Monday, October 30, 2006 was a day like any other. Our family was doing their thing, work for me & B, school for the kids. Around 2 pm, I came out of a unit meeting to voicemails from hell. With ever increasing urgency, the final message was “Mom just come home”. And I did, on autopilot. Willing my mind not to think. My car gliding across the city, safely but with alacrity. I rounded the corner home & crept down the S shaped gravel drive to several sheriff cars. In the distance, I see PoPo & Pony. All that mattered to me in that moment was that both of them were ok. The rest of the stuff was just stuff.

B joined us a short time later, he had no forewarning but went into protector mode immediately. Assessing the scene, we see the smashed kitchen window and back door all boarded up. Oil dripping off the porch. I’m told there is blood spatter throughout & gun shots into my bathroom cabinet & bedroom ceiling. We weren’t allowed inside & had to call crime scene cleanup, randomly finding a company from the yellow pages.

They would take away several loads of medical waste. The nonporous surfaces were cleaned with chemicals used on surgical suites. I won’t go into details of the perpetrator & his posse. He was unknown to us before & after. I won’t moan about the remodel/repair/replace except to say we were displaced for just under two months. We made sure to host Christmas Day celebration that year, my daddy’s last.

Why this terrible thing happened doesn’t matter to me anymore. That’s proof of my growth & healing. Letting go of what one can’t control. There is nothing more freeing.

Said in southern twang, alrighty, lemme let ya go is used to end awkward conversations. But alrighty, lemme let ya go also insinuates the talk is over … like for good, a brush off. And that my friends would be a priceless ending. If only I could do the same with other traumatic events in my life. If only my life wasn’t full of other traumatic events. Thank goodness for this blog, my free therapy.

As always, more to come.