An Anniversary I'd Rather Forget

One year ago today, someone broke into our house. I, being the weirdo that I am, have remembered the exact date of the break-in. I've been a little uneasy lately as the anniversary approached. Not that I think will happen again this week, but because it has dredged up bad memories of that day. It has caused that fear and anxiety to resurface. We've long replaced the door that was kicked in and the things that were stolen. But I still get that feeling when I turn onto our street. I worry when the girls are at home with the sitter and there is no car in the driveway just like that Monday last March. I wouldn't say the fear controls me or even paralyzes me. It's just always there, hiding under the surface as I scan the back door and front door when pulling into the driveway. I have become more aware of our neighborhood as a result of the break-in, which is a definite plus. I know which cars are supposed to be there and which ones are not. I know my neighbors, too. And while I wish no one had ever broken in, I'm thankful that no one was hurt and thankful that my kids are too young to let it affect them.