I have lost faith with my house. My safe haven has been violated. The night before last, while I sat chatting at a café, writing on my laptop, someone forced their way into my house. I came home to find my back door wide open, the handle still locked. Knowing that the door is far too sticky to open with the wind, I immediately went outside again, and called my friends Bob and Bobbi, came over immediately. We walked through the house to ensure that no one was inside. When they went into my office, Bob called out, “did you have a computer in here?” Bingo! There was the violation. My desk was moved out from the wall, the beautiful Apple flat screen monitor, keyboard, mouse, wireless modem all gone. The Tower was disconnected and out of its cubby, ready to be hauled off as well. So did I interrupt him? It seems I may have.
Later I realized that my iPod was missing from the dining room table, where I’d left it when I decided it was too cold to go for a walk earlier. Why did he take its little embroidered bag as well? A gift for a loved one? He put my clothes that were on the dryer door back inside – he touched my clothing. My socks and underpants. My favorite jeans and turtlenecks. Should I rewash them?
So now I want to move. While not exactly fearful, and certainly not interested in sleeping at anyone else’s house to be safer, I do not feel the sanctity of my private space anymore. Now that a stranger has burgled his way in, walked on my floors, touched my clothing and stolen my things, I want to move. This weekend I will go to all the open houses that offer any possibility of sanctuary. Then I will begin looking by appointment. I will make it happen, despite my reluctance to take financial chances.
This is the second time I have written of losing faith with my house. Last August a roof rat made his way in via the open French door, and spent a few days foraging in my kitchen and bedroom. After his demise, I gradually grew back to a comfortable relationship there again. After the new year a tree was blown down and I lost most of my fence. (The open alley is the reason it was easy to break into my home, I am sure. ) The power was off for 8 days at that time, and I cleaned the house and made it cozy again. I was loving the feel of it until now. I think this might be the deal breaker. This is a violation by an outside person, someone who felt free to make my space his own. One’s relationship with home is a powerful atttachment. At least that is the case for me. I love my home. I need a place that is absolutely my cocoon, my safe place. I can deal with the outside if my home is safe. Oddly enough, even with this violation, I can’t quite imagine another place ever feeling quite like mine, like me. I know it has to do with making a place my own. Paint, fabric, flowers. A new entry altar. Have a party, play some music, fall in love there. Maybe not all of that is within my power, but the party, flowers and music are. The altar is. Today I’ll begin my search in earnest.