He’ll be telling this story ten years from now, and I’ll be feeling guilty and sick.
And I’ll deserve it.
That face, that hair, those eyes.
I swear, I thought he was downstairs playing with the other kids.
I thought he had run ahead of us after we enjoyed our fireworks display in an unfamiliar neighborhood.
I was surprised a half hour later that my friends had someone knocking on their door at 10:30 pm.
I was totally shocked when I saw a man on their porch whom I had never seen before handing over my child: scared, sniffling, and relieved.
That’s when my panic set in.
“Well, I was running back to the house, and I tripped, and when I looked up I didn’t see you guys. My knee really hurt. I just waited on the corner for you to come back and get me. But you never came.”
“What did that guy say to you when he walked up to you?”
“He asked me where my parents were. I told him we were visiting our friends and I told him their names, but he didn’t know them. He got me a band-aid and asked me if I wanted a drink. Then he sat with me and waited.”
and waited and waited. But we never came.
They finally figured out where we were, and my child was deposited into my arms.
I thought he was downstairs playing.
Somehow, that statement is not very comforting.
I almost lost him.
Apparently I need leashes. Four of ‘em.
I should have just gone to Auntie Kim’s barbeque, but with the price of gas I couldn’t justify the 1066 mile drive.
Now, go hug your kids, I can’t seem to stop hugging mine.
