Childhood Story: Breaking In

Breaking inside a home like an adult
When I had reached high school I was allowed to let myself in and out of the house with my own set of keys. To most, keys are just little metal objects you use to turn the gears in the keyhole to enter your home but to me? THEY WERE SIGNS OF ADULTING. To give you a sense of where this story to heading towards, I am 32 years old now and I still don’t fully adult correctly, let alone when I was 15 years old. Anyway, once the allure of having my own set of keys wore off, I would forget said keys at home very frequently. One morning, after being forced to drink coffee before school (those Latino parents…), I rushed out and it wasn’t until half way during school that I realized, “Oh shit, I don’t have my keys.” During these years, cell phones were not readily available so calling my parents was not an option plus they both worked in New York while I went to school in New Jersey. Once the last bell went off I went straight to my locker and got all of my books that I would pretend to read and really just lose by the time the end of the school year came around. Some days I would walk home while other days I’d take the bus, today, I needed time to concoct a way to break in my house so I walked.

By the time I got to the front of my house I studied it in a way that would have been completely unnecessary otherwise until today. Finally, I opened the gate, walked to the side of the house to open the next gate which led to this little alleyway. My bedroom window faced the alleyway to the backyard but I figured I’d try my luck and check to see if the backyard door was open and waltz inside like a civilized human being. It was not. Since my parents were responsible adults (plus the fact we lived in Jersey City, NJ, not the safest at the time) they always made sure all the doors and windows were locked. I was about 15 and considering how much house keys meant to me and how I ended up forgetting them more times than I can remember, clearly, I was not an adult, which means, I must have left my window unlocked and open.

I went back to the side alley and looked at my window. It was about a foot above my head so although I could reach with my hands, there was no way I had the upper strength to pull myself up and open the window. I remember there being some random round table in the backyard at the time so I decided to drag it over and place it under my window and proceeded to climb up. As I suspected, my parents misplaced their trust in me as I pried open my window and screen and plopped myself inside my bedroom. To draw a mental image for you, as I am sure I have mentioned before, I attended a catholic high school where the dress code consisted of black shoes, knee-high socks, a grey plaid skirt, and either white or light maroon button down top or grey polo shirt. There I was: my ass and legs dangling outside the window while I tried to pull myself through, completely disregarding the fact both gates were easily accessible, as well as I, since I had a skirt on. Once inside, I hobbled out of my room, into the backyard, dragged the table back to its original place and never told my parents until recently. I made sure they never threw that table out because not only did I forget my keys other times following this situations but sometimes when I was rushing, I was too lazy to grab my keys the moment I closed my bedroom door before leaving the house. Don’t worry though, because of this, I started to bring a change of pants with me so I could slap those on before leaving school ready to break into my home. Problem solved! And problem solving is part of adulting!

That was my uniform in high school and that was my happy smile