Sandy Supposes....

Temporarily Lost

Blogging Circle of Friends: Write about something you've lost.

          This is a loaded, open-ended prompt! When my three offspring were younger, and noisier, and more active, and extremely accident prone, there were times when I thought I'd lost my mind. While visits to emergency rooms were frantic and frequent they did offer a small, but significant perk: a chance to sit and ignore the never-ending to-do-list. There's nothing quite like the urgent need for medical attention to reveal what is truly a priority.

         Nothing matters more to me than the well-being of my children. I'd like nothing better than to declare that I have never misplaced one of those kids, but I teach by example, so I must be truthful. I admit that during a particularly hectic mall foray, I lost my two-year old son. One minute, he was tottering along holding on to the stroller occupied by his baby sister, determined not to hold hands with his bossy big sister, and the next micro-minute he had vanished.

         I suspect Chris was swept up in a surge of Christmas shoppers; jostled and disoriented. I remember feeling nauseated with worry. What if my darkest fear became reality and someone whisked him away? What if I failed to find him? What could or should I do?

          This happened in the pre-cellphone era; I had no means of communication at hand to summon help. I hustled as fast as possible with two children in tow. I fought against the unceasing current of oblivious shoppers. In and out of stores as quickly as I could, I desperately questioned staff praying I'd discover my son in one of them. Finally, in one shop I received news, well, a tantalizing tidbit.

         An unaccompanied child had ben found and taken to the mall's administration office. I bombarded the poor clerk who'd delivered this clue. Was it a boy or a girl? Did the child have blonde hair and blue eyes? Was it a young toddler? Did the child answer to the name Chris? I was conflicted. Should I race to this office hoping against hope that it was Chris? Should I continue to search in every shop for a glimpse of him?

         How many kids could possibly be lost in this mall at this moment? I was betting that my son would be the only one with this distinction, so I asked for directions and I ran to the office. I have never been more relieved and grateful than I was that fateful day. Christopher's blue eyes welled with unshed tears the moment he saw me. I was blubbering as I hugged him tight. Not once did his thumb leave his mouth; yes, Chris was a thumb-sucker and self-soother, and he certainly needed it that day. He'd endured too much trauma for a two-year old.

          The happy security guard wiped away a few tears, too. "The little guy was so cute with those big eyes and his thumb stuck in his mouth. He wouldn't tell me his name. I was kinda worried."

         It was only after we were safely back at home that I realized Christopher had been wearing a jacket with his name inscribed across the interior tag. I suppose the security guard hadn't thought to look, or he hadn't wished to frighten a small child further.