And this was my first. My first moment of pure distress upon return to my sanctuary, my place of peace, my place of rest.
It was a beautiful mid Sunday afternoon. We were met by the sweet aroma of the eucalyptus tress which arched in greeting, about fifty feet from our tall bronze gates. We were in high-spirits, we had just taken part of a beautiful Sunday service and were now invincible.
But amidst all our splendor, as the vehicle crept into our driveway our sensibilities reported otherwise. As I walked toward our front door I noticed our dogs circling around one of my mother's many gardens. And right above, lay evidence to their discovery, our unwelcomed visitors. The only window not barred with double bars had been punctured and its remains lay shattered on the terrace.
I was terrified. In my 18 years of existence never had our house been broken into.