I stole a gun in 3rd Grade

I’m 49 now. This was when I was 8 I’m guessing. I was recently divorced from my parents and was placed in a whole new school system. I had no friends. I got off the bus after school and I was on the bus stop across from my parent’s house. I had been drawn to the house across the street and I couldn’t really tell you why. It was just interesting to me. Surely I must have wondered who lived there. I had been the bus stop a few times and then one day I just did it. I walked across the street and up to the house across the street and rang the doorbell. Keep in mind I’m 8 and I’ve just been kicked out of my house for being too difficult. I’m already “fucked up” for lack of a better term. And old man opens the door. I’m guessing he was 60 ish. Probably younger than I am now. But older than my former dad. I think back on it and that man must have been in his 50s which was old to me when I was 8. He asked me what I wanted, and I said I don’t know. So he said, “come on in.” He was alone. His wife wasn’t home. But he did have a boy younger than me. We’ll call him Dave. I don’t remember his real name anymore. He had an older daughter named Susie. Or something. Again don’t remember. There was an old man and his wife living in the basement. I never went in there. I just heard weird noises coming from down there. So that was my first day across the street. I didn’t live there. But I was there a lot. The old man told me I could come over anytime. He started calling me his “red headed step son”, which was nice. It made me feel I was part of the family. I started spending a LOT of time over there. The old man worked at a factory. And he would always take us fishing and to the river on the weekends. I begged my parents weekly to let me go fishing and they never did. But he did. I loved fishing. And it was the one thing that made me forget that my family didn’t like me and didn’t want me around. One day, I hid his .38 in my backpack. I’m sure he had it for a reason. I didn’t know that then. I just liked guns. And I didn’t want him to have it. So I took it. I put it in my backpack and carried it home. I hid it under my bed. Never thought about it again. I kept going to the house across the street. I kept going fishing. I was fishing yesterday. The man that taught me to fish died of a heart attack when I was 11. The house across the street caught on fire when I was 16. The lady that lived in the basement died. I haven’t been to a therapist in 35 years. I’m back in therapy now for the first time in 35 years. I’m thinking about that house across the street every single day now. I wonder what would have happened if I would have told someone about the .38. I’m thinking about calling up the lady that was “my mom” when I was 8 and telling her hi. She’s still alive. I hope. Wife says no. -Dane

I stole a gun in 3rd Grade

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