The first time I ever stole was at a little store when i was a very young child. I didn’t know why or how it was wrong, but I knew I’d better not show my parents until we were at least on our way home.
It was a little ¢25 red and blue plastic wind-up car. I asked my mother if i could have it and she, rightfully, said no. All I knew is that i wanted it, and “no” wasn’t going to keep me from having.
I don’t know what I expected my parents to say when i showed it to them. Maybe I thought they’d be happy they didn’t have to spend money, or maybe I had a feeling I shouldn’t have done it and wanted them to tell me.
I don’t have a single clear memory of that car after showing it to my parents on the way home, but I do have more memories of stealing than I’d like to admit. I think one of the best things that ever happened to me was the time I got caught. It was among the worst nights of my life, but it was a heavy wake up call!
I haven’t “stolen” anything in years, but occasionally “find” things that apparently don’t have owners. It’s been a challenge of letting go of that, “I want that!” feeling that pops up when I see something. With work, it begins to fade, though.