Whenever I use my debit or credit card at a store I am asked to ‘swipe’ it across the handheld which transmits my information. When this happens I remember that when I was a boy, swiping meant “to steal”. Lino, a friend of mine, used to do his share of swiping and he used to invite me to swipe alongside of him. I resisted until the lure of being ‘bad’ enticed me to swipe a pack of staples from the Variety store.
I was scared spitless and was wracked with guilt for over a week until the burden was too much for me. I told my mother who simply instructed me to go to church, deposit the amount in the donation box and light a candle. As I watched the wick glow, the darkness receded like a malevolent snake and I was free again. I was ten years old and I never swiped again.