Every year Jennifer’s employer hosts a day at a local
amusement park. Employees and family members have the opportunity to enjoy the
park for much of the day. This culminates in a picnic where yearly awards are
handed out and sometimes a pep talk is given.
This is a good occasion for me to be around many of the
people Jennifer is around during her work days. After all our years together, I
feel I know many of them well as Jennifer mentions them from time to time in
our conversations. Getting together with them helps me place names with faces
until we see each other at the annual Christmas party or at the picnic the
following year.
This picnic and day at the amusement park takes place in the
middle of summer. Every time I have been it has been hot, often scorching hot.
That is okay though. Summer and amusement parks go hand in hand. You should
expect to get sweaty and sticky, and maybe a tad smelly during this type of
excursion. It is the type of day where you understand why people, beat down by
the heat and the excitement, pay five dollars for an oversized mug of a root
beer and grape Kool-Aid slush without a second thought.
I recall only missing one picnic during my marriage to
Jennifer. That one miss was when Hannah was born. She was born on a Thursday
night and the picnic was the next day. After Hannah was born, we have made each
one with Hannah in tow each time.
Hannah’s participation and interaction with the amusement
park has grown each year as she has grown older. She plays some now in the
water park and has gotten her courage up to ride some of the rides. Still, we
find that at her age, her enthusiasm sometimes overrides her processing
capability.
This year we had one of those moments. It was one of those
moments all parents fear.
We met at a pavilion for the picnic meal and awards
ceremony. After we had spent some time with Hannah in the other parts of the
park on this afternoon, the shade of the pavilion combined with a place to sit
down for a time to eat, made this an enjoyable time for us adults. This was a
bit of a different story for Hannah though on this day. She could comprehend a
whole world of fun stood within her vision. Combining the possibilities of fun
before her with her new found bravery to test boundaries and find limits and
now she was chomping at the bit to get the picnic behind her so she could get
back to discovering what else the park had in store for her.
As the picnic ended, we stood up to get back to the park to
spend some more time letting Hannah ride rides. Jennifer made her way down the
pavilion into an open area. Hannah followed behind her. I though got stuck in a
bit of congestion as others made their way from under the pavilion. By the time
I was able to get moving again, Jennifer and Hannah were gone from our dining
location. I made my way through the crowd moving into the open area where I
found Jennifer. She had been stopped by someone who was talking with her. I
looked around for Hannah. I did not find her though. I asked Jennifer if she
knew where Hannah was, she looked at me then looked around. A look of horror
came across her face.
And just like that, life changed. Hannah was missing.
I told Jennifer to stay where she was just in case Hannah
was nearby. I then began walking with the dispersing crowd toward the heart of
the amusement park. My mind raced. I kept trying to remember what Hannah was
wearing. I tried to remember if she were wearing her glasses or was carrying
her toy puppy dog. At the same time my eyes were scanning the people around me.
I wondered should I yell out Hannah’s name. If I did would a panic be created
when others realized a little girl was missing?
Then about fifty feet ahead of me I saw a woman. My initial
glance just told me she was a mom. I saw her stoop over to either talk or hear
something. There to her side was Hannah. Hannah’s enthusiasm had somehow
morphed into reality when she noticed me or her mother were no longer beside
her, and something told her that was not the way it should be. This woman, standing
beside five or six children, probably some of them her own children, was trying
to find out why this little girl was suddenly all alone.
I raced ahead and thanked this woman who was able to slow
Hannah down just enough for me to spot Hannah and catch up to her. I scooped
Hannah up and hugged her and kissed her. I also chided her a bit about running
off without knowing mom and I were with her. Briefly, I thought about what may
have happened if I had been just one or two seconds slower.
And just like that, life changed back.
In reality, Hannah was only missing for a half-minute or so.
Still, every second where we did not know her location was excruciatingly
awful. An ache formed and found residence deep in the pit of my stomach that
seemed to know no mercy. Thinking how that separation could have been longer
makes me shudder even now and makes me sad to know parents who have lost
children and somehow have to just go on.
There’s a lot of time ahead for more moments like what
happened on that hot summer day. That possibility is just something that comes
with being a parent. So, we teach our children to be aware of where they are,
where we are, who they are with and where they need to be and where they
shouldn’t be. We make notes of what they are wearing. Sometimes we even take
their picture, just in case. We teach them to be wary of people they don’t
know. We teach them to hold our hands. And we pray that something like this
never ever, ever happens.
We do those things so that another day will come. A day
where the child has grown up, has becomes a responsible young adult and goes
out on her own. And as I watch time go by, I know that day will come and be
here…just like that…
Vacations at the beach where the water rushes in
washing away the sand beneath your feet leaving you amazed at how all this works
