This one is a tough one.
You probably saw on Facebook that our car was broken into last night. Most of our camping gear, our nice camera, three of our backpacking bags (ironically, not mine), tons of smaller items, and Zoe’s new colored pencils and post it notes were all taken. Two rear windows were shattered beyond belief and someone took our stuff. All while we were peacefully sleeping at the Sir Francis Drake.
Our insurance was very helpful from the get go and Officer Monroe and Officer Collins from the San Francisco PD were amazing. Officer Collins immediately put his arms around the girls as they broke into tears when the officers arrived. He comforted them, explained each step of the process to them, and assured them they have really cool parents. Apparently, most people don’t handle these types of situations as well as Zak and I pretended to.
When the police left we realized we had two big problems. Our car is missing two windows. And we don’t have camping supplies. Zak and I tried our best to figure out solutions to these big issues.
The most pressing seemed to be the car windows. We drove to a Honda dealership and service area. They would have to order windows and the work wouldn’t get done until Monday. And then we would be in San Francisco with no place to stay, no car, and the rest of our stuff with no place to put it. San Francisco is expensive and hard to find a last minute room, especially during Pride weekend. Plus we both felt so violated and kind of wanted to get away from the city. Probably irrational. But that kind of seemed like the theme of the day.
The other issue is our gear. Much of the rest of the trip was scheduled to be camping. And now we don’t have the gear. Our homeowner’s insurance will cover it, after our deductible, but we don’t know what that timeline looks like. Additionally, in that moment we couldn’t really wrap our heads around all that was stolen. Sure the tents, sleeping bags, mats, and sleeping pillows. But what about all the small things? The first aid kits, knives, compasses, duct tape, safety pins, headlamps, all that little stuff that means safety in the wilderness. We couldn’t comprehend how we could replace it all, not even knowing what we would need to replace until we could do a comprehensive inventory.
So that’s where we were with the two big issues. We couldn’t find a solution that made sense.
We cancelled our 1:30 Alcatraz tour, that we had all really been looking forward to. I think that’s when it started to sink in. There were more tears, this time not just from the girls.
We drove to a car wash and were greeted by a kind gentleman who gave us a deal on a good detailed vacuum of the whole car. While we were standing there, looking at a pile of all our remaining things, we made the heartbreaking decision to go home. It will be easier to deal with the windows on our timeline and we won’t have to rebuy all our gear. It was a 100% family decision. We were all sad. But also felt like it was the right choice. Our other options would be more costly and stressful. And at this point, after the two deductibles, our budget is blown.
Once we made the decision, we tried to get out of the city as quickly as possible. But we were hungry, and we are on the west coast, so we made another stop at In-N-Out. We all nibbled at our meals, pretty silently.
After that stop we found The Home Depot and bought better plastic covering than the car wash had graciously provided. Then we just started driving east. At some point it dawned on Zak that we will be driving through Salt Lake City and we might as well stop at one last Kimpton. He made some phone calls, although the flapping of the plastic made it nearly impossible to communicate. He then booked a room in Reno, Nevada for tonight and a room in Kearney, Nebraska for Sunday. We’ll be home on Monday.
Reno brought us a great Hampton with a pool for the girls to destress. We ordered pizza and salad. And drank whiskey. And inventoried everything we have and all we lost.
So that’s the logistics of it all.
Emotionally. That part is really hard. Zoe started writing a post, but can’t. Both girls have broken down into sobs throughout the day. They, understandably, can’t begin to wrap their innocent minds around such a violation.
My heart breaks for Zak. The hours he spent over the past months planning every detail of this adventure will not be brought to fruitation. The consideration he poured into each day, each park, each hike, each city won’t be utilized. It is so depressing.
I feel really heavy. There is too much weight on this situation. Obviously, I feel violated, sad, angry. It is a lot more than that. We won’t get to visit the National Parks and sneak sacred sights of our nation’s most beautiful lands. Our paths won’t cross those paths of new friends. We won’t try the new foods, explore the cities, meet new people, experience the the parks like we had anticipated. And, this is probably surprising coming from me, but I won’t be able to accomplish my goals this summer. I really wanted to end the summer being able to look back and say, “I did that. I backpacked. I camped. I didn’t get eaten by a bear.”
Once we made our decision, we put it on Facebook. Zoe later said that she thought a few people would post the sad face emoji and that would be that. None of us can wrap our head around the support and offers that have been sent our way. We know we are just a family on vacation. We didn’t deserve the theft. But we also don’t deserve the outpouring of help that has been offered. I cried as I read each post to the family. You are all the kindest, most generous people.
Finally, I want to wrap this up with, what has become, a beacon of hope for our family. Ellie and I were about 20 feet behind Zak and Zoe when they discovered the car this morning. (Darn San Francisco hills slowed us down.) When we comprehended what had happened Ellie screamed, “My Ranger Mike hat!!!???” It was a screechy scream so loud that it set Zoe off into sobs. We peered through the broken windows and saw the hat box tossed on Ellie’s seat, not where it had been. We didn’t want to touch anything, not knowing what the police would want to do. When we finally were able to open the car, about an hour after we first approached it, I peeked into the box. The hat was there. That was the only thing that wasn’t replaceable. Ellie cried tears of joy and relief. They were good for this mama to hear. Ranger Mike told Ellie that he hoped the hat would be a reminder of her goals of becoming a ranger one day. I can say now, that the hat is a symbol for us all. That we will persevere. We will be ok. We will not untangle.
