Sainte Cecile was burgled yesterday. I got the news from a friend in the village and felt like weeping. The children were even more upset than I was.
“You have to remember it is only things,” I told Olivia, trying to keep calm. “It is not a person.”
She looked horrified.
“Sainte Cecile is like a person to us,” she told me.
She is right of course. The thought of someone breaking in through the kitchen door, rummaging through our belongings and then eventually opting to steal the television before leaving is horrible. A stranger marching through the house, fiddling with things, breaking things, looking for anything of value is very upsetting. We all feel protective about our home and love it like a family member, which is only natural as it has been part of our lives for so many years. Even if I did hatch a callous plan to sell it earlier this year and move to the Savoie.
From here we also feel totally unable to do anything and cannot even ascertain what is missing apart from the flat-screen TV. One of my first thoughts was ‘I hope they didn’t find my UGGs’ – how sad is that? But I didn’t really feel I could ask my mother-in-law who kindly went to assess the damage to see if they were missing.
Meanwhile it has given the children more fodder for their ‘let’s go back home’ campaign.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2009