Yesterday I lost Patrick. For 3.35 horrifying minutes, I didn't know where my kid was. I was 22 seconds away from calling Fresno PD and 8 seconds away from sheer and utter terror.
He was a few seconds closer to terror than I was because he couldn't find me where he thought I should be. A simple miscommunication about pick-up had us on opposite sides of the building after art class. He was a few seconds closer to sheer and utter terror and cried almost the entire way home. He lost his mom.
Patrick spends most of his time with his face two inches away from a sketch pad or a thick novel. He tends to miss things because he is in his own world. But he has always been the kind of kid who stayed close, tethered to me by an invisible cord that only reaches so far (I know, the cord right?). He's never been lost before. Not like my Keith or my brother Robby who have both been lost in WalMart with the same panicky reaction.
three short minutes. I became the worst-case scenario mom for three heart-wrenching minutes (kidnapped, he was kidnapped). I totally could have strangled and hugged him when his little face came through the crowd toward us. I just hugged him instead.
He knew the safety procedures (kick, scream, yell), he was headed back to his class to a safe person, his teacher. He remembered my cell phone number.
It was just a misunderstanding.... Let's not do that again.
