Someone rifled through our car the other night. I noticed that the glove compartment and ash tray were open when I got in to take my dad to the hospital for dialysis Friday morning.
I'm happy that since neither me nor My Beloved ever leave anything more valuable than change for Price Chopper shopping carts in the car, all they found were old receipts, extra napkins, one pink glove and an expired ferry ticket. And garbage.
We're so not car people...
But still, someone rifled through our car. Someone decided to walk onto our property, get into our car (which took us years to pay off), and poke about to see if they could take something from us.
Because yes, that was my first thought: How could anyone want to take more from us?!
I was aghast, staring stupidly at the open glove box spilling its contents onto the passenger side floor, quietly filling with rage. My baby died. In fact, I did nothing but lose babies for five straight years. And now, after all that, I am still childless.
How dare someone try to take more from me.
I realize that the teenager hunting for beer money in my ash tray had no idea whose care he was attempting to pilfer from. I know it was a totally random car on a totally random street to him. It wasn't personal.
Except that when the universe has fucked with you the way it has fucked me, everything kinda feels personal somehow.
Even when it isn't.
This inflated sense of entitlement - this belief that I should, nay, deserve to be spared any and all future suffering, persecution, toil, torment, sorrow, and general badness is only going to mess me up further. I know that too. Mostly because I know that no one - not even someone who has suffered the worst cruelties imaginable - is immune to experiencing still more. That's the way life works. There is an endless vault of crap for the universe to pull from, and random shit happens all the time to whoever finds themselves walking into the black cloud of a looming shitstorm.
But I can't help it. The injustice of having someone break into my car when life has spent so much time shitting in my general direction was just too much to swallow Friday morning. On the way to the hospital. Where Thomas died.
And while I'm at it, fuck you, stupid kid looking for beer money. I hope you never find yourself sitting speechless in your car wondering why on earth someone would want to take something from you when you've already lost so much.
I hope you never know the fatigue that comes with that kind of defeat.