breaking the ice

My son's backpack was stolen the other day. Why I'm thinking about this now, I have no clue. Other than perhaps it's something to write about. Something to break the ice. I've been getting these subtle hints from the universe to write again. Okay, maybe they started out subtle, like a little itch, but now, it's full-on blatant. So here I am. Thinking about my son. And his backpack. And the people or person who stole it. My son's best friend's backpack was also stolen. They have been leaving them at their bus stop after school and they walk down to the Elementary kitty-corner and down the street, so that my son Duncan can pick up his sister Elsa and his best friend Kalel can pick up his little brother Anakin. So for six months, they have been leaving these backpacks laying in the bushes not to be touched, and then last week *poof* they are gone. Thankfully, there wasn't really that much in Duncan's that we needed to replace. The biggest thing was his warm coat. It was a great coat too. Black wool peacoat that we bought at a secondhand store in October for him to use at Halloween to dress up as the mad hatter. He really loved that coat. Elsa even wore it sometimes. It was pretty awesome. And we'd just gotten him a new backpack that he really liked because his other one exploded from all the crap they make you carry around in a backpack these days. This new backpack was more like a computer carrier, I think it even said IBM on it. Maybe that's what caught someone's eye after all these months. But you'd think that upon seeing a library book about Percy Jackson and a Junior High Planner and some other school supplies and his big coat stuffed in there, that they'd just leave it. In any case, they didn't. And Duncan come home and told me and he felt bad. But I helped him dig out an old backpack we had lying around from his big sisters and some paper and notebooks and pencils and a new planner and voila. All is well. But he felt bad still. And even got a little weepy. But we hugged and didn't make a big deal about it, because really, what good would that do? My son and his smile are all that really matter. I know his heart is big. And I know he will remember things like this and not make a big deal of it with his son either someday. And, I hope that the new person at least fits into the magical Mad Hatter jacket and is warm on this cold blustery end of February day.