My parents still live in the house I grew up in. When I was growing up, I don't think I ever realized how fortunate I was. Winchester is 5 miles north of Boston, close enough to the city to be a part of the hustle and bustle, but small enough so that bank tellers know their customers by first AND last name. The schools are wonderful, the houses are magnificent and the downtown filled with cute stores, coffee and bagel shops, the post office, the library and some others. I could still complain though, our house was too small for a teenager who really needed some privacy, the walk home from school (1.2 miles uphill) was too long and hard, especially on band days when I had to carry my flute in addition to my heavy back pack, the town was too small for this city girl who was prone to getting in trouble. When I return to my childhood home these days, I really do appreciate what I grew up with, I was very, very fortunate.
Growing up though, I had a recurrent nightmare. It was always the same. The house was broken into when I was home alone at night. In the dream, I was always sitting in the same spot in the house (I still can’t stand that spot btw), unable to get out, unseen by the intruders, but fully aware of everything that was happening. The old house always groaned and creaked, those sounds contributed inexhaustibly to my fear.
This weekend, upon returning from the Cape, we found the Winchester home broken into, my parents' room ransacked and lots of jewelry and money taken. This Winchester house is no longer mine, but all the horrible feelings that accompany such an event still overcame me. The thieves came in through the window in my Dad's office (the room that used to be my bedroom), they went through all the drawers and the closet in my parents' room, taking what they could find, but leaving other things like the TV, the DVD player, and the computers.
My Dad pointed out that it could have been a lot worse, there were more things that they could have taken and lots that they could have destroyed, as he put it, "I used to practice criminal law, I know what these guys are capable of." In a way, he is right, it could have been worse, the destruction could have been a lot worse, or we could have been there, or interrupted them - thank G-d none of that happened. But in a way, he isn't right.
What makes this so horrible is the violation and the residual feeling of being powerless to do something about it. Someone came in uninvited, through an entrance that wasn't meant to a point of entry. Someone walked through my parents' house and touched things, the banister on the stair, drawer handles and more. Someone was in my parents’ bedroom and potentially other rooms, going through their drawers. Someone took things that mean nothing more than $$ to them, but things that mean so much to my parents – things that were passed down from mother (or mother in law) to daughter, or given in love from husband to wife or wife to husband. Someone took money set aside for an anniversary vacation. Someone had access to information that could lead to identity theft and other troubles, thereby setting off a series of necessary protective actions. Then of course, there is the fear and the unknown. What else did they take that hasn't been noticed yet, did they intend to come back, what happens the next time my parents go to Cape Cod, was it someone who knew my parents or someone random. The likelihood of catching the thieves is slim to none, the chances of recovery of the stolen objects is slim. We/they are powerless to fix this.
On top of all that, for me it is perhaps the first time that I have seen my parents vulnerable. They have always been the pillars of strength, they have always cared for me, in my 36 years, I have never had to take care of them – and really even through this, their strength and courage is admirable. I feel sorely ill equipped to help, unable to rectify any of the wrong.
So, what is the lesson in all this rambling? Years from now, my parents will likely remember some but not all that was taken. I suspect that they will remember the horrible feeling they faced when they walked in the house and the feelings they had every time they realized that something else was missing. I know that they will remember that Nicky took a cab from Boston to Winchester to be with them in their time of need. I know that they will be grateful for the calls from Audrey and the knowledge that she was prepared to drop everything to come. I am certain they will remember how Talya brought my Mom her little jewelry box and offered to share her jewelry with Nona since Nona’s was taken. I know they will remember Michaela's loving hugs and Ayelet's coos and snuggles. And, I hope that they will think my presence was a comfort and a distraction.
This is a more realistic depiction of her sitting, slightly assisted.
Talya is really excited about kindergarten. She is acting SO grown up now that she will be starting kindergarten. Who is this young lady? Definitely not my baby girl...
As for Michaela, she is nervous about middle school, but she is definitely ready and I have no doubt she will rise to the occasion. The changes for her will be really exciting - from the walk to school, to the new instrument and dance class she will be taking, to her babysitting job (for me) one afternoon per week. 
