Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Shaken Not Stirred

...We chased our pleasures here
Dug our treasures there
But can you still recall
The time we cried
Break on through to the other side...
~ The Doors

Music is almost always playing in my house (Read:  Swing);  yet, yesterday at 4 p.m., ironically, the house was quiet and still. 

It began with a ring of the door bell.  Through the crecent-shaped window of my front door I saw the crown of a tall person's head wearing a blue baseball hat waiting for me to answer.   I did not answer.  I wasn't expecting anyone, nor was I in the mood to say "No, thank you," to another one of the surprising number of door solicitors that traipse my neighborhood.  I did not answer.   He/She rang once and was gone.  

Ten minutes went by and I heard a noise, the ice maker on the refrigerator, followed by another sound coming from the back door.  "Hmm, is that L.G.?" I wondered (read:  Freedom)  No, L.G. was working late and he would have called or texted.  I got up to look, straight shot through the house from the living room to the back door where I saw the left shoulder of a white t-shirted person fighting with the door, attempting to get in my house.  I froze for a second in shear astonishment, the surrealness of an attempted break-in in broad daylight, and it's happening right now in my house and I'm watching it.  

I walked toward the door, pass the dining table thinking, "What do I do?  What should I grab?" and glance at the single fork randomly laying on the otherwise clear table.  "Oh yes, that's what I'll do - - fork the intruder."  I kept going.  I walked right up to the back door, looked out the window and down (it's a 3-step elevation from outside) at the bald-headed, 3-day-shadow-shaven white guy jimmying the top lock of my back door while his ear was pressed against his right shoulder talking on his cell phone.  I never said a word.  I stood there in shock and awe, for what felt like 5 minutes, was more like 5 seconds, with just the door and it's cage-protected window between us thinking, "This guy's actually breaking into my house? Well, there's no fucking way that's gonna happen!"   In that instant, I slammed my left palm against the oak door just above the locks scaring his sorry ass.  "OH SHIT!" the intruder exclaimed, and took off running in the direction of the garage and down the driveway.  

I turned around, coolly walked to my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, "I'd like to report an attempted break-in..."  That's when I began to shake, my voice crackling over the reality of what just happened.  They were a team; baseball hat guy at the front door, cell phone guy at the back.  As I awaited the arrival of Ft. Myers' finest, I called Dianne next door to alert her and texted L.G.  Calling him wasn't necessary, the police were there and I was o.k. - - shaken not stirred.

It was a CSI Ft. Myers situation, as I gave my account, description of cell phone guy, and the police successfully retrieved finger prints from both doors.  There have been other reported attempts in the neighborhood, some more successful - - the descriptions matched.  I hope they find the criminals who intruded and invaded me.

There's a unlikely paradox here - - the break-in was my personal break-through - - a transformational shift.   It was the first time in over three years I did not associate an incident, situation, or crisis in any way to Boomer (read:  My Man )- - his drinking, the disease, the manipulated, misguided move to Florida, his death, my grief, frustration, anger, sorrow, blah, blah, blah, - - nothing.  I did not think of, link to, or blame Boomer once.  Yesterday's attempted break-in was the break-through in my healing, I'm on the other side now, for real - - at least for today.  Today is all that is assured in life anyway.

Yesterday I had a crisis, it's size doesn't matter.  I was cool, calm and indeed shaken but not stirred.  I was not stirred in the perpetual pool of loss, self-pity, fear or hopelessness.  I broke-through with a break-in.  I am relieved and grateful.   And honestly, though still a little shaken,  I feel a little badass.  Isn't that what we're all striving for - - to be the badass - - the heroes in our own life?  

... When we long for life without ... 
difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds
and diamonds are made under pressure.
~ Peter Marshall

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