Lost Child

I know the feeling. The heaviness in the middle of the chest, the emptiness in the pit of the stomach, the swirling confusion in the head that accompanies the realization that you have no idea where your child is, or whether or not she is safe.

I experienced it the day my daughter did not arrive at school. Someone saw her get in a car with a guy at the bus stop. When we called the police, and they found out she was over 16, they said, "Well, then, we have to assume she is where she wants to be."

My husband spent the day driving around looking for the car that was described to us by friends at the bus stop.

A repeat of the feeling occurred the night we discovered her bed empty and her footprints leaving the house in the new-fallen snow.

Then there was the time we knew she was somewhere in town with someone, because she was going to school, but she wasn't coming home at night.

Later still, there was a time she called us from North Carolina.

"What are you doing in North Carolina?"

"I came down here with Chuck," she replied.

"Chuck who?"
She called out, "Chuck, what's your last name?"

I thought I might pass out that time. She was pregnant and we didn't know who the father of the baby was, but it wasn't Chuck.

Now the child she was carrying during that incident has disappeared herself. No one has seen her or heard from her in a week. She isn't answering her cell phone, and no calls have been made on it since December 30th. She hasn't been to school yet since Christmas break is over. She is 18 years old, cute as a button and very, very foolish.

I wouldn't wish the feeling a mother has in this situation on anyone....not even on the daughter who did it to me, and is now experiencing it herself.