What a run, eh?
First time for me. My car was at work. I had gone out at lunch, adjusted things, made sure none of it was too hot, took my climbing shoes out, put some new carabiners in with my other climbing gear, and checked out my binoculars. It was all there. I went back into work. I didn’t get back out to my car until 6:20. My key didn’t fit very well and it certainly didn’t turn well. Damn it.. did someone put glue in there? no… the metal’s all bent. What’s going on? Wait! Where are all my things? … uh. … awe damn it. … FUCK!
FUCK! I yelled. Spun around twice. Put my hands in the air. On my face. On my hips. I yelled again. Nothing changed. I walked to the front of my car and back to the door. Nonsense came out of my thoughts and spewed from my tongue. Nonsensical profanities. No one was there to hear me. No one was there to console me. No one was there to care. I called 911, perhaps they’d care. I could be angry at them. The dispatcher connected me with TPD. The woman on the other end asked questions and my answers became formal. “Do you have a piece of paper?” “Yes mam.” “No mam.” “Thank You mam.” “I received a case number and would receive a letter in a couple days.” I couldn’t even get a police man to give a damn. I was just out of luck.
The drive home gave me time to reflect on loss. I’ve experienced loss before. Big time loss. This time it was material loss. Really what effect would this have on my life? How would I change as a result? Maybe I won’t. What will be different? Maybe nothing. It’s all just stuff. Some of it I use regularly, some of it annually, some of it hardly ever, or never again. It’s just stuff I told myself.
I got home and called Alysha to perhaps lighten my evening with some happy story. The best I got was a friend dressing up like a banana and eating lots of bananas to get into the mood. Though it was nice she picked up the phone to talk a bit I was still bummin’. There I was at home, without a lot of things I had when I had left at 9 AM. I sat inside for about 4 min before I found sitting at home was only going to allow the bad news to sink. I had to get out. I had to think about something else. Do something I could change, build upon, develop into a positive. My climbing shoes had made it out of my car at lunch because I feared damage in the heat. So I took them with me and drove to the gym to face the bouldering wall.
I had 20 min left in the evening before they closed. I walked straight up stairs and slapped on my shoes. The gym was quiet and only two others were up stairs, working on their own bouldering problem, so the wall was mine to explore. I climbed.
Traditionally climbing things has been a great challenge for me. It was fun, presented problem solving opportunities, and offered an escape – the arrival to a level only the elite and really tall could reach. Climb up and no one can get you. Recently this climbing thing has proven that it’s not so exclusive up there. I was just someplace where most people weren’t, but had they wanted, they could have. I’ve found I’m a runt in the whole scheme of climbing and this is good, I have places to go, I can create goals to accomplish, I can continue working up. So this is what I did Saturday Night. I worked up. 8 PM arrived and the gym closed. I was already 2 miles away driving home. My mind focused on the small cuts across my fingertips and the pockets of flesh that had detached themselves from the layers beneath. I made bets with my self as to when the two layers would again be one, on how many more late night sessions I’d have to make before the pad of my fingers were tough leather, on when I would be master of any route on that wall.
Arrival home to an empty table, devoid of school books reminded me of my recent loss and I sat down with a blank piece of paper and started to write.
I set down my pen. Thoughts whirled about. Emotion pulsed and I purged positive thinking then opened up to it again. I thought about Alysha’s permission to be angry. I took it to heart and then choose not to be. If I can, I don’t have to, and I won’t. I thought of the good. I fell asleep.
It’s Saturday morning, 12:11 AM. I’m still dwelling. I’ve completed my list. I’ve sent it to the police. I’m working with the insurers. My total dollar loss is $5,700. I still don’t understand what that loss means to me. I’m thinking about the binoculars.
Dad bought them for me. They were 10 x 70. They were huge. He thought they were important, a good thing to have. Perfect for any nights where I didn’t want to set up the telescope, or I wanted to look at something with a large angle. I used the just the night before to stare up at Andromeda for about 40 minutes. Then I took a break and did it again. There was value there to me that is lost to other people doing the exact same thing. That’s what gets to me. I still think about the binoculars… and my journal, which I had written in that night. Unfortunatly I wouldn’t get those thoughts back. That’s the real theft and it’s in a dumpster someplace. Mildewing. You can’t sell that to a pawn shop, maybe a publisher, but there is no worth there except to me.
Otherwise the thought of insurance allowed for peace of mind. I don’t have any fear of total loss because of it. It’s just a process.
It’s Saturday now and I was finally able to read some emails and catch up with friends. Perhaps tonight I will rest well and the week will slough off behind me and I will catch up with life as it was, a little short of breath, but healthy and better for it. To smiles and the enjoyment of being.