My husband and I recently came home from work and what we found there has changed our lives forever. We were robbed and the house had been trashed.
We have lived in our little house nestled on a quiet street for 25 years. We bought it when our second child was four days old. When my father first laid eyes on it, after the papers had been signed and it was too late to get out of the deal, he turned to me and said, "Don't worry, we will make it a home."
And we did. We were in our 20s and had two young children and no money. With the help of family and friends, in particular my determined father, we tore out walls, replaced windows, floors and doors and hired professionals when necessary. We took out a second mortgage to pay for the renovations and we did most of the work ourselves, but we made it into a beautiful home. We were and remain house-proud.
Growing up, our kids never knew another home. One of the mantras I raised them with was "no matter what else happens in your world, this is your home. This is where everyone is on your side and this is where you can feel safe."
Now they are educated, gainfully employed and living with their partners. I am happy about that because it wasn't them who had their space invaded and their home trashed. Their personal belongings weren't strewn all over their bedrooms. They worry about us and the stress of what happened, but thankfully I don't have to worry about the aftermath of this for them.
My husband and I start our days at 5 a.m. and are out the door by 5:45. My husband is a bus driver and has an eight-minute walk to work, the perfect commute, as he says. Not that he ever walks. I drop him off on my way to the subway to start my day downtown. Because we work so early we are home at 4 p.m.
On a recent Wednesday afternoon, we opened the door to find the desk drawers in the hallway open and paper strewn about. Our first instinct was that it was the cats - they're getting pretty clever, opening drawers. It didn't take long to dispel that theory. We were met with the smell of souring yogurt that had been thrown all over the living and dining rooms. A bottle of pop had been poured in the middle of the kitchen floor and a carton of milk had been thrown on top of the yogurt.
We went through the house and discovered the point of entry was a basement window -a brick had been thrown through it. Every room had been violated, some very little - books thrown around the office. Some were trashed - our master bedroom had been torn apart with our clothes and other belongings thrown all over the place. The mattress had been removed from the bed and my jewellery boxes had been rifled through. My purses had all been turned inside out.
We called the police and then our insurance company. We received understanding and compassion from everyone we dealt with and everyone who knows of the robbery.
The police told us that all indications were that it was teenagers who broke in. They stole about $200 worth of booze, our digital camera and jewellery - items that could be pocketed and sold easily. They didn't take anything large because they were most likely on foot. Besides, taking a big-screen television out of a house is more difficult than taking a digital camera.
A few well-intentioned people told us to move. But our plan has always been retirement first, relocation second. Besides, despite recent events, we live in a great neighbourhood. We raised our kids here and watched others raise theirs. Our neighbours just welcomed their first grandchild; we were there when their last child was born, 17 years ago. We have helped and watched others on the street care for an elderly couple with no children. We have been privileged to watch young couples start families and see them grow.
My husband and son are angry. They want to physically harm those who would come into our home and violate it. I am disappointed and also grateful that not more damage was done. The things I value that have no worth to others are still there. The drawing of my father done in France during the Second World War, the doll made by one of my daughter's friends, the stained glass I worked so hard on - these things can't be replaced.
I also feel a little sad. When my kids were teens they weren't perfect, but they would never steal or vandalize or hurt anyone intentionally. What kind of kids would inflict this on people they have never met? It's upsetting to think of the rage they must have for their circumstances, their lives. They will no doubt end up committing more crimes. I suppose they never felt safe and protected or had a home where everyone was on their side.
A few weeks after the break-in, our phone rang at 10:20 p.m. It was the police. They had arrested the thief, a young male with a history of similar break-ins. None of our property was recovered but that was no surprise to the police or us.
While we feel a sense of justice that someone was apprehended, I have no wish to find out any more about this individual. I also don't feel safer or any less violated. He did it and will pay some sort of price, but he changed our world forever. We will never again feel that our home is the safe, protected place it once was.
Catherine McGravey lives in Toronto.