Once, I had a license plate. Those were simpler times.

It was just another run at the softball fields. A little one-third mile loop all to myself. There’s something peaceful about an empty parking lot and a lonely course to do loops on till you get dizzy. Time to think. Time to breathe. I loved that loop.

Time to be.The miles flew by. I came home. All was well.

And then, a call from mo. “Your license plate has been stolen.” She noticed it while walking to her car to go to work.

i couldn’t believe it. I was never more than four minutes away from the car. I had seen someone stopping at one point in a car that looked like mine, but people stop. It’s a parking lot. It must have been them.

I called the police, filed a report, went on with my life. I edit stories for a living. Tonight I read about fatal shootings, a family carjacked on the way back from Disney World, a 16-year-old who killed himself after he was outed. I reminded myself I was lucky. It could have been so much worse.

But still. I won’t go back to that course. Bad karma is bad karma. I’ll be more careful. I’ll be more vigilant. I’ll be more scared. The bad guys always win. Life is not a hallmark movie.

I’ll miss that license plate. Those were simpler times.