blindsided

i’d never thought the space outside my gate could be so unsafe.

cars park there everyday, and don't leave until they have to. but on saturday a car was parked, next to the wall with the brass 965, and did not stay.

a slight liquid spill and discarded chappie wrappers on the concrete are now the only things visible in the space where the unmistakable mazda 323 used to be.

a few metres from the nocturnal security guard’s enclosed glass windowed box.

in half an hour, during an unexpected lapse of attention from a reflective cloaked, torch wielding guard, the 323 was silently removed.

despite it’s distinctive engine start.

four hours later, after dinner distractions and bridesmaid brainstorming, it could have been en route to anywhere.

disbelief. denial.

a saturday night session of spelling clarification with a night duty policewoman eating a twirl-whipped-white soft serve.

with flake.

anger.

trying to rationalize theft, loss and inconvenience, but failing.

it reminded me of all the effort i've made to avoid it.

i’ve hidden behind walls, wires and watchdogs, tied backpacks around my feet in buses, padlocked my possessions in lockers.

but when theft is intent, there is no stopping it, apparently. like the dark, sprinting silhouette of the thief i watched run off with my prized panasonic in peru, it comes out of nowhere, and moves fast.

i think one advantage of real-time theft is that you at least have some closure, some understanding of why or how it happened.

but unseen theft, or an unexpected mishap, always leaves me thinking, doubting, saturated in a cesspool of should have, would have, could have.

in my routinized existence, where my morning drive takes me past the same houses, the same brick buildings and leads me to the same church-side parking lot, i think i’ve become blissfully blinded to potential fuckups.

i click the same black mouse, log into the same email address and carry the same cooler bag backpack everyday up eight flights of mosaic tiled office block stairs.

i’ve come to expect a similarity in every day, a degree of safety, some guarantees.

but i guess there never really are any.