Kindles and Cars

My kindle was grabbed out of my hands on our bus ride back from Mt. Kenya. If I had been sitting just one seat over, if the window had been just closed a fraction more, or if I had chosen to read my stolen library book instead (I'm technically the librarian, so I don't know if taking books out of the library is really stealing), my Kindle would still be in my possession. But no. I'm not that smart. 

Nothing good has ever happend on that particular street in Nairobi. It was on that street that Taylor almost had her ipod stolen, Tanzi's speakers were ruined, perpetual traffic, the SMs almost got arrested, and now my kindle to boot. When the man jumped up to take it, I was so startled to be pulled from the midst of the Tower of Bable, that I couldn't fight him or grab onto the device fast enough. While my thumb did get a minor scratch on it, I was unhurt in the process. 

After the initial shock wore off, I had time to really think. The thing that made me the most upset, and the reason I cried, was not the fact that the Kindle was gone, but that with one motion, that man had ripped so many memories from my hand. As I sat contemplating what I had just lost, the first thing that flew into my head was my copy of the Conflict of the Ages series which I had just been reading. With each book costing a mere dollar, every file backed up on my Amazon account, and with numerous physical copies at my disposal in Maxwell's library, it was only my notes and highlights that were lost. Thinking of those five books made me think of my Dad and the times he came into my room to play with my new gadget, buy me good books, and to just sit, just because. 

The scratch on my thumb happened when I tried to grab the kindle cover in the split second I knew what was happening. That cover made me think of my brother. He's the one who had originally bought me the Kindle. I had been thinking about getting one for my year in Kenya, but then my little brother surprised me with a very early birthday present a few weeks before I left. It was with him that I searched the shelves of Walmart for a cover, and it was with him that I stumbled upon the perfect one. I had seen it earlier; a nice, simple, black cover that snapped on all the way around my Kindle, holding it snugly in place. The only problem was the price. I had decided to forget about it until we stopped by a Target in Atlanta on the way to the airport. We were on a duel mission of killing time and finding headphones. It was there in the back of the electronics section that I saw the Kindle case I wanted, not just on sale, but on clearance. Turns out Kindles aren't all that popular in that part of Atlanta. Finding that case was an experience I'll always remember; my brother and I with our incredibly white skin were more out of place in that Target than I've ever felt living here in Kenya. 

Melissa offered me her cell phone so I could call home and tell my parents about my loss. While we were still stuck in Nairobi traffic, there was no hope of getting any internet access to disconnect my Kindle from my Amazon account (just in case the bandits wanted to buy a new book at my expense). It was great to talk to my mom, and my Dad worked everything out with my Amazon account, but I did learn some news about my car. Turns out my brother had been in a pretty major accident the day before while driving my car. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but there is a possibility my car could be totaled. 

While I love both my car and my Kindle, they are both just things. Possessions that pale in comparison to the relationships they point to. My Kindle reminded me of my brother. It reminded me of my dad and how he loves to give good gifts; my car was that way too. My dad once told a friend of mine, "Don't cry about things that money can replace. You can always buy another one." He was right. When I think about what I lost today, I really didn't lose anything important. I still have the memories, I still have the relationships, and I still have the love, and that's what really matters.