Stolen

One year, I think I was 11.... Yeah it was 11, I stole every single one of my Christmas presents I gave to people. And ofcourse, no one asked me how I got certain things because they were so distracted, but I can remember pocketing Brut aftershave for my dad, a comb for my mom and candy, a few other things. I don't recollect feeling guilty about it, but I must have since I was in Christian schools. I'm sure I must have thought I was going to hell. But, what I do remember is feeling very sure about what I had to get my loved ones. There were specific things. I mean, I didn't just pick something up and randomly put it in my pocket. I went out to find what I wanted and thought, "Oh good they have one." And I stole it.

I was very bold about things like that though. Morals and religion and family disapproval aside, if I had something in mind that I had to do, I did it. I think it was from being so set apart from what was going on in my family's life ~ their ups and downs and tragedies weren't mine. I had a childhood to attend to.

I can remember being just 8 years old and walking up to a grocery store with change jingling in my pocket, and putting it in a machine and picking up a pack of Kools for the neighborhood kids. I mean, I was this little towheaded, dreamboat of a child with cherubic blue eyes in pink ruffly shorts and barefeet, purchasing a pack of cigarettes. I'm sure I probably skipped home. I do though remember having to pay the piper for that one..... I remember my sister getting the blame for it since she smoked, and being told that she was a bad influence. But it really wasn't that. I liked the smell of tobacco, and I wanted to have a smoke with my friends. It was exciting in my little neighborhood to try something like this in the sideyard of an abandoned house. I loved taking chances like that.

One time, a lady found out from her daughter that I was stealing Christmas presents for my family. I really liked her and when she told me that I wouldn't be allowed to play with her daughter if I ever stole anything again, I swore to her I never would again. And I didn't ~ I never stole anything after that. In fact, I make sure now that nothing I take would be consider stolen. Which I think is weird, but that's how it is now. I'll return a pen if I happen to keep one by mistake at the bank.

Something happens when I am done with something. I am done. Maybe it was the lady being disappointed, it could have been; but I think I was just done with stealing after it served it's purpose. The same thing happened with cigarettes eventually. I quit one day and all desire for tobacco is gone.

There are certain things though that are never done with me: Lovingly picking out just the right gift for someone, taking chances but not to emulate another ~ but because I want to try new things, fearlessness, feeling set apart from others so I can attend to my own life, skipping down the street when I'm happy....