Missing...

When I was only five or six years old, I went to the Washington County Fair with my family. I don't really remember too much about the fair, actually. I can't recall any of the rides I went on, I don't recall eating cotton candy or popcorn, and I don't remember looking at all of the exhibits, farm animals, food vendors or carnival games.

Despite my lapse in memory regarding the fair and all of it's animated glory, it is still one of the most vivid memories of my young childhood. Even though I may not remember the things a child of that age would typically remember, I do remember one thing.

I remember getting lost.

I was standing in line with my family, waiting for a ride on the go-carts. I remember being completely enamored by them. I remember watching as the other children drove around the track as I anxiously waited for my turn. As I watched, the line we were waiting in moved. Families took their turns on the go-carts and as they finished their rides, they would get off. New children and parents would get on, and the line would steadily move forward. My family steadily moved forward.

But not me. I was too enthralled with the go-carts. I couldn't stop watching them. I wanted more than anything to take a ride on one of them! After a while, and I can't remember how long it had been, I turned around only to find my family no longer there beside me. To a five year old boy, it didn't occur to me that they had simply moved up the line. I only knew that a few minutes ago, they were there, and now I was all alone.

My mind started racing and I knew I had to find my family. I no longer cared about watching the go-carts as they raced around the mesmerizing track. I was lost. I was alone. And I was scared.

The details of what transpired next are of course fuzzy now, obscured by time. I remember it being dark outside. And this I'm sure only added to my fears of being lost. I remember running back to our car, twice. Hoping to find my family there waiting for me. My mother has since told me that we were parked several blocks away, on a side street. I don't remember this. I do remember that I was running the entire time. How I was able to find my way back to the car and then back to the fairgrounds, in the dark, and at only five years of age without getting even more lost is beyond me!

I remember running through the building housing the indoor exhibits at least twice. I remember finding someone I knew (or at least thought I knew), although I can't remember who, and asking her if she had seen my mom. I remember she was wearing a pink shirt.

I have no idea why, but this person didn't take me to the lost and found, the fair security, or even help me find my mom. But she just left a small five year old boy to search on his own.

After a while, I decided to go back to the go-cart ride and see if my family was still there. I was able to find my way back, and as I did, there was my family, waiting for me. I was told that they had kept going forward in the line and that my older brother had gone on the ride.

I remember being very disappointed that I didn't get a turn on the go-carts!

Even though I'm sure some of my memories may be clouded and might not be completely accurate, this is the way my five year old brain stored the memory. I do remember being terrified. In fact, it was the most terrifying event of my life.

Until today.

Today was a very nice, spring day. Birds were chirping in the trees, the air was crisp, and a slight breeze was blowing, keeping it cool.

We headed out this morning for Max's first soccer game. We signed him up with the county soccer league, and even though the three year old kids don't really play games against other teams, they do get to kick their soccer balls around and learn how to dribble, shoot, and work as a team.

After soccer, we headed home for lunch and then went outside to enjoy the day. Our apartment is situated very near a little forested area, complete with winding stream, tall trees, vines, boulders, and trails. We have spent quite a few afternoons here, and it is definitely one of our kids' favorite places to play around.

After walking through the forest for a bit, we headed back out to a grassy area near the clubhouse. The day was so nice, Shayla and I just sat on the lawn while Max and Isla crawled through bushes and ran around. After a few minutes our kids had gotten a little further away and Shayla headed over to keep an eye on them. I stayed back for another minute or two, laying on my back enjoying the sunshine. I decided to get up and head over to help Shayla wrangle the kids back to where we had been but by the time I got there, Max was playing up on the side lawn of the clubhouse. The lawn dips down here three feet or so, creating a drainage basin for the parking lot. It was deep enough that when Max was down in the bottom, I couldn't see the top of his head.

Shayla left Isla with me and she went back to pick up our jackets and her purse. I casually kept my eye on Max, knowing that he had gone down into the little grassy basin. When Shayla returned, she asked me where Max was at. I told her where I had last seen him.

We walked over there, it was only thirty feet away or so, and by the time we did, Max was gone. I didn't see him at all, although Shayla said she just barely caught a glimpse of him as he ran around the corner to the front of the clubhouse. As we both cleared the corner, Max was nowhere to be found.

I went inside the clubhouse as Shayla kept walking around to the other side. We visit the clubhouse on occasion, and Max always loves getting one of their cookies they leave out for residents and guests. I thought for sure that he had gone in to sneak one. But as I walked inside, there was a plate of cookies, but no Max. I quickly looked around but couldn't see or hear him anywhere, so I went back outside where Shayla said she hadn't seen him either.

We decided to split up and circle the clubhouse. It had only been a minute, and he couldn't have gone far. By the time we met up on the backside, neither of us had seen or heard him. We walked back around to the front, again not seeing him, and when we met up again, this is when the panic began to set in.

I think I figured that he was around somewhere, but I could see the fear in Shayla's eyes. If I live a thousand years I hope to never see that look again! We continued to search separately, running around the clubhouse, along the edge of the forest, looking through bushes, around each apartment building, at the little playground areas, out on the main road, and everywhere else we could think of.

By now Shayla had gotten the apartment's leasing agents out helping us to look for him, and word had spread to others nearby and we had about five or six others helping as well. Shayla took off into the forest along a path we have gone on many times before. She ran back to our apartment to see if Max had made his way back there, and when we met up again, she had her phone out and was calling 911.

When the operator answered Shayla began to break down and I knew the operator was going to have a hard time making sense of what she was saying. I took the phone from her and, as calmly as I could, gave the operator a full description of Max. His name, his age, the color of his hair, what he was wearing from his jacket to his shirt, all the way down to the color of his socks and his shoes.

The dispatcher told me she was sending two officers to our area to help us out, and that I needed to remain nearby where I could be visible to flag down the officers when they arrived. By now, Shayla was already off searching again. I paced back and forth, nervously trying to keep an eye out for both Max and the officers on their way.

I headed out to the the main road again, and not seeing anything walked back toward the clubhouse. As I was walking back, a group of people were coming up the sidewalk. I couldn't really see anything, but I heard one person say, "Where was he?"

I ran over to them as fast as I could (while carrying Isla) to find Max safely in the arms of one of the men helping us out. I was completely relieved and Shayla, seeing me running back, came running over also.

Shayla burst into tears scooped Max up, and sat on the grass just holding him, not wanting to let go. The man said he had found him in the woods down by the stream, sitting between two large boulders.

I think Max, not even knowing that he was lost, began to sense the seriousness of the situation. He just sat there in Shayla's arms, not saying a word.

After the group of people helping dispersed and we thanked them for all their help (we can't thank them enough) we waited for the police to show up so we could let them know we had found our son and that he was okay.

When all the excitement calmed down and we were able to regain our composure, we asked Max to show us where he had been. He led us down the small trail through the woods (the same one that Shayla had searched earlier) telling us that he was just tired so he sat down.

He told me he had found a house in the forest, that was safe from the bears, and that there was a nice log that was like a seat for him to sit on. I asked him to show me this house, and we walked down the path, past the stream, and into a small (very small) clearing. There was a large, smooth boulder peeking up through the grass. Vines and bushes were growing overhead, and there was a nice log, just perfect for a little boy to sit on! To a little three year old boy, this was a very fine house!

I then asked him to show me where he was when the man found him. He walked us back out to the trail, along the stream, and then he showed us, step by step, detail by detail, where he had gone. He had crossed a corner of the stream where it bends against a small hill, and climbed up the bank to a small spot, just big enough for him to sit on, behind a tall tree and between two boulders.

From where he was sitting, he had a perfect view of the stream rushing toward him as it cascaded down two small waterfalls. He said he was just sitting there, watching the water, because he was tired.

The sound of the water most likely muffled our voices as he said he never heard us calling for him. And in the place he was sitting, it would have been impossible for Shayla to see him from where she had searched on the trail. She had a good view of the area, but because he was behind the tree and between the two boulders, she couldn't see him.

It was probably thirty or forty minutes that we were looking for him, and for anyone who knows Max, that is a really long time for him to be by himself. This is a kid who loves to be with someone at all times. There are times when we actually have to bribe him to play with his toys on his own! He loves either Shayla or I to always play with him, and he is a very clingy child.

This fact probably escalated our fears that he was either very lost or worse. For those who have never lost a child, let me just say that the worst possible scenario plays over and over through your head. You try to have hope and think, he's probably just around the corner, but in reality you scan the back seat of every car that drives past. You think about having to go home and see his toys on the floor, without him there to play with them. You think about traveling to Alaska to see his grandparents, without him there to greet them. You think about being on the news, the missing child reports, the gruesome ways other children have been abducted, and you hope, you pray that your child really is just around the corner.

We are so fortunate that Max is okay. We are thankful that we live in a neighborhood where people we have never met before will volunteer to help find our missing child. We will forever be thankful to those who found him, the police officers on patrol, doing their duty, and making themselves available to assist.

We will forever be thankful that Max is safe in his room tonight, camping out in Isla's little play tent, sound asleep.

To all the parents who have lost their children, even for a moment, God bless. It is a horrifying experience not knowing where your child is.

Before today I could only imagine how my parents must have felt when I went missing at the fair. Now, I know.