"...Sometimes I steal things I don't need. I joy-ride cars
to nowhere, break into houses just to have a look.
I'm a mucky ghost, leave a mess, maybe pinch a camera.
I wach my gloved hand twisting he doorknob.
A stranger's bedroom. Mirrors. I sigh like his - Aah..."
My Grandma's house got broken into today. She left at about twelve and came in at 3pm.
"As I drove in round he back I saw the gate swinging open and thought the wind must've blown it loose, because I'm always very careful to close it properly behind me so it doesn't swing and bang the latch. When I got to the back door, I had my key out ready to open it up and saw shards of white plastic lying around. I thought 'That's odd.' It was then that I realised I'd been burgled. I walked around the front and knocked on Beryl's door. She let me call 999."I hope they catch the bastards.
"They used a spade to get in. They just smashed in the bottom panel of my front door. And then they found the key to the French windows in the dresser in the dining room. That's how they let themselves out."She looks like she can't even cry. She's got that resigned look, where you've lost something of such great value that you just cannot comprehend quite what's gone. Vacant almost. I've been crying for her.
"They'd been through every bedroom, going through all the drawers and cupboards. They didn't find much money but they took my good jewellery. The necklace your mummy got me for my 70th... a double string of pearls your grandpa bought me for our wedding... seeded pearls he bought me on holiday... that silver necklace I showed you yesterday, in case you wanted to borrow it for prom... It's not that it's worth money, it's that I've had it so long, and it means so much to me... All my good jewellery. They've left me nothing."And then, a complete afterthought:
"Oh, they took my laptop, by the way. So don't bother sending me any emails. I shan't get them."Can't you see that you haven't robbed her of her money, you've robbed her of her memories. She doesn't care for the laptop, probably worth most of all that was taken. Little trinkets, all of value, all given to her for something important. It's not money you're stealing, it's little bits of her life. Don't you people understand that? They were proffessionals, the police said; they knew what they were looking for, they left all the cheap jewellery. They wore gloves; they can't be caught. My grandma. She's only just in her early seventies, but she looked at least another ten years older when she walked into the loungue. And the first thing she said, not "I've lost everything!" No. She asked me how I was.
This is one of the most selfless people I know. She teaches me so much. And you've robbed her of her memories. My poor, lonely Grandma. And you've taken away from her when she had so little to start with. You aren't stealing money. You're stealing her life. What kind of people are you?
"And the strangest thing, they'd taken a box of ham out of the fridge, but they left a slice on top of the freezer by the front door. And another in the dining room. And another on the window sill of my bedroom. If they were hungry, they could've shoved it into their mouths."And then, my sweet grandma tried to smile,
"Bugger them."A forced laugh.
"If you'll excuse my French."
