What She Stole From You

Last night, a woman stole my phone from my bag. I felt her do it, I saw her walk away, and I stood there dumbfounded. I was 100 percent sure she did it, but I was too scared to accuse her and confront her in case I was wrong. Next time, I hope I won’t give the other person the benefit of the doubt – better to apologize and leave with your phone – there’s nothing in it for the nice person. 

Apparently.

I get that it could have been so much worse. I could have been robbed at gun point like another couple staying in our hosel was 4 weeks ago in Brazil.  But it doesn’t take away the horrible feelings that I have.

I feel like such an idiot having done nothing. 11 months of pictures, gone. Even more if you count all the pictures that weren’t from our trip. Because I was stupid and cheap and didn’t buy more iCloud storage to back up my pictures. And when I finally went to do it, I couldn’t because something went wrong on my Mac in Canada. And so, I carried on travelling knowing that if anything happened to my phone that it would all be gone. 

But I never thought anything wouldn’t actually happen.

Then it did. 

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the blog posts have been coming at a glacial pace – I’ve been slow as molasses (to borrow a phrase I love from my old colleague)  to write. But I have ideas. Things I really wanted to share with you. Things I really wanted to write on this blog and illustrate with photos. And then when I was done, I wanted to print it all out and bind it like a book – something that Matt and I could flip through when we got grey and old and technology got away from us.

But now I have almost no pictures to share.

With you. Or with anyone.

And that woman stole your chance to continue on our Patagonia road trip with us – she stole your chance to visit the wonderful parks in Montevideo – to see more of Iguazu Falls, or any of Salta. Not to mention all the places I showed you a bit of but left so much more for later. 

She stole from us, you and me, so much opportunity. 

And that’s why I hate greed. Because for a little bit of profit and with evidently zero regard for another human being, she’s hurt me so much. It’s the same with greed of any kind. When a boss won’t give a raise, when an employer won’t pay the females employees fairly, when people are displaced so that natural resources can be exploited, they lose so much opportunity. So much of what could have been, won’t.

I suppose the only blessing in this situation – for me at least – is that it reminded me of that. That greed, in any form, really and truly hurts people, whether you know them or not. It’s a reminder to do more to live kindly. 

And to back up your pictures – right now.

– Cyn