Letter to a maybe thief

Some time ago, January '07 to be more precise, I was burgled. Someone broke into my home and stole my old PlayStation2 and newly purchased Wii. The memory card on the ps2 was invaluable as it held about three years worth of gaming on it. At the time I was thankful nothing else was taken and furious and scared. The thief didn't just take my toys and run though. A woman's high school class ring was left behind. Creepy. Discovering the ring scared me more than noticing the lack of possessions. Someone very real and tangible entered my home and left something of, presumably, herself. I have to admit I just assumed the thief was a guy. Perhaps it was a guy who just left someone's class ring behind. But why? Who the hell wears those after high school anyhow? And why bring it to a burglary and then take it off only to leave it behind? So many questions. All I could do was address this embodiment of the thief cast in a stainless steel hunk of metal with a green semi-precious stone shining on the shelf next to where my consoles used to rest.

After the burglary I kept most of what I generously call an entertainment center just the way it was the night it got violated. It took me months before I dusted off the hand prints that were left on the stereo tuner. I told myself that I hadn't really gotten attached to the Wii yet and really the biggest loss was the memory card on the other system since I had so much time logged on it. I was purposefully missing the point. I was stuck. While watching countless hours of television I caught myself staring out my back window subconsciously on guard duty in case the scoundrel should return and I'd have to defend my things or myself. The idea that I had to actively hold my home horrified me. I was in a mild panic most nights. But I ignored it. I couldn't admit to myself that this event had left a mark on me that I would eventually have to accept and process so I focused on the fear of a possible future recurrence.

Of the wounds that can be healed time can heal them all because eventually one has to do the things one did when one was wounded, and in my case this is as simple, (and sometimes infuriatingly difficult) as living my life. And a lot of time has passed since that night. I feel secure in my own home again. I eventually replaced my PS2 with the new slimline version with built-in ethernet adapter and even unlocked a good portion of my old games on a fresh memory card. The summer has left me feeling free to leave my back door open -although I never leave it unlocked and unattended anymore. I feel a lot more like I did when I first purchased the place and just about every day brought some new joyful home related task. It feels good. I have reclaimed. But I still haven't replaced my Wii.

This all came up today as I was doing some virtual e-mail housekeeping and happened upon the e-mail address of my Wii. Each Wii has a hard coded e-mail address - sorta. The Wii has to allow communication to another "account" and the account in turn has to accept the Wii. Since I'm a bit geeky that's one of the first things I did with my console.

So here I have my Wii's unalterable e-mail information, and an e-mail account registered with said device. I have a hard time imagining the person who is currently enjoying my console has kept the original information on the Wii, but it's very easy to wish for it. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time I've seen someone behave -ahem- carelessly. These days I'm in a strong place - strong enough to address the person who now has my stuff. So, today I sent an e-mail to my old Wii. I did, after all, stay in line overnight outside of a Best Buy with a thermos, blanket, and a chair. That was a great time and I wanted to reconnect with it in some way. I am claiming that Wii even if I don't currently possess it.

I won't retype it all here. That's between me and the current possessor of the console. I have no idea what the relationship between the current holder of the Wii and my thief may be. I am getting more and more curious about this ring, though. So I'll part with a message to the original owner:

Beth, graduate of Martinsville High School Class of 1984 who participated in gymnastics, your ring was left in my home. Would you care to have it back? I'd be happy to trade.