House, Letters, Life, Stories

Dear Robbers

Dear Robbers,

This may come as a surprise to you, but I am not accustomed to being robbed. So, you can imagine my chagrin when I found loose change, water bottles, and dog bones strewn about my car. I can only imagine your chagrin when that’s all you found in my glove box. But, then, I remembered how stupid I am.

I don’t have to tell you what you found in the trunk of the car, because you already know. The book bag you stole was a gift from my mother, and all the documents in it…that was my whole life. The wedding ring? The last thing I had of my marriage.

I was devastated. I called the police, cancelled my passport…and had a nervous breakdown. Thanks for that. But, as the day went on, I realized something. Even through my frustration and panic, I went down the list of things I had to do to get a new birth certificate, social security card, passport, check book…and I made every phone call that morning while waiting for the police to arrive. I realized that even you cannot bring me down. You had me fooled for a minute there. I thought God must be angry with me. And, then this beautiful thing happened:

Sam brought my computer home so we could finish our work remotely. About halfway through the day, she received an email from a co-worker that said one of our engineers was looking for her. It’s a big company with hundreds of engineers, so neither of us recognized his name. She messaged him, and he asked if she is my cousin. Then he told her what you did.

Thank you for deciding you don’t actually want my identity and throwing my backpack over the fence into HIS YARD. Of all the random fences on all the random yards, you chose to toss it into his. He recognized my name because I happened to write a blog that morning for the engineers outlining tips on technical writing. Engineers remember everything. When he returned my book bag, the only thing that was missing was my ring.

After that, I realized that God does not hate me. God wants me to be happy. I don’t need that ring to be happy. I am already happy. As much as I appreciate this recent enlightenment, I want you to know that robbing cars is really pretty fucked up. If you knew me at all, you would know that I would have just given you drug money. Because in the words of the great Katt Williams, “Who the fuck do you think I’m fixing to judge?” Nobody.

Sincerely,

Kristina

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