Over the weekend, Rowan's little blue car was stolen from our garage. I've had an unusually strong reaction to the incident, and have found myself in tears over it a few times.
On the surface, this is silly. It's just a toy, and although she adores it and asks for it regularly, we'll get her another one and she will be none the wiser. But for me, it felt especially violating to know that someone walked into our garage in the two minutes it was open and purposely took a child's toy. My bike was also stolen from our garage a couple of years ago, but my reaction to that was completely different. I let it go easily, figuring that he or she must have needed it more than me and even wishing them many happy rides in my head.
This time though, I've been so sad. Of course, it is about more than just the toy. I'm in a sensitive place right now as I prepare to return to work, and my days are tinged with sadness alongside joy, feelings of a lot of "lasts" and of course, guilt. Experience tells me that the anticipation is worse than actually doing it, but still. I am sad. The stakes are higher in some ways this time; there are two of them to miss, two different stages full of amazing moments that I won't be here to see. I think that sad has permeated my psyche pretty deeply, and so my reaction to the "little blue car incident" was intensified.
What I needed was a little perspective. I found it. And then I clicked through to the full story, and this chapter in particular, and I found some more. I'm holding that entire family in my heart tonight, and sending a lot of love and light their way. I just can't imagine, and their grace awes me.
Suddenly, the loss of our little blue car seems trivial. And so now I just hope that somewhere there's another little kiddo grinning from ear to ear as our car transports her wherever she needs to go.