On Valuables

Fresh sunflowers
Ever since I bought a bike, I've had this supreme paranoia that someone is out to steal it (or rather him, as I have fondly dubbed him Felix). I've heard my fair share of cautionary tales over the years and have, thus far, done my very best to ensure Felix's safety whenever I leave him on his own. But try as I may to avoid it, I still find myself worrying about bike thefts and the like -- to the point where I will periodically drop by throughout the workday to see that he's still there, safe and sound. My baby in cream.
Maybe it's just the pangs of worry that every new owner inevitably feels. The pangs that, with time, eventually subside and give way to feelings of assuredness and -- dare I say it? -- optimism. Not too long from now, I know I'll find myself laughing at the precautionary measures I used to take to safeguard Felix against ulterior motives. I'll look back on those naysayers who warned me against rising bike theft statistics and scoff. I'll start believing I'm one of the lucky ones. Slacking in routine, I will one day forget to lock my bike as soundly as I used to. And out of the blue Felix will be stolen, and suddenly I'll remember how dangerous the world really is.
In a lot of ways, I'm the eternal new owner when it comes to my own heart as well. Like most people who find themselves in possession of something precious, I initially go to great lengths to protect it. Building walls, buying sturdy locks...doing everything in my power to ensure its safety. But my defense is fallible, and eventually my vigilance begins to slip. I find myself relaxing, relieved to discover that I was overreacting in the first place. It's then that my security system is cracked, and somebody breaks in to hurt what is most important to me.
Sometimes I wonder: who is it better to be, the eternal new owner or the overly cautious veteran? For better or worse, I know I'll always be the eternal new owner. Optimistic and hopeful, never quite learning my "lesson." I want to believe that people are inherently good, even if experience and history both suggest otherwise. And as foolish as this sounds, I'm alright with being wrong time and time again, with having my bike taken and my heart broken. Because bikes can be replaced and hearts do eventually heal, even if you lose a few pieces in the recovery. I'm waiting for that somebody to come along who can take care of all of my valuables, however worthless or prized they may be.