Not Alone
I was probably 4 or 5 years old. Our family had gone to the drive-in movie. I don't know if I'd gone to the bathroom by myself, or with my sister. All I know is I got lost. I was walking around this sea of cars and couldn't find our green station wagon. I'm sure I started to cry. I was found by a police officer who helped me find my parents. It's one of my earliest memories. I don't wonder why, it's a terrifying thing, being lost. Feeling alone. It's something kids avoid. I have a clear image of Tabatha when she was three. I would stand on our front steps and watch her as she walked down the street, blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders. I'd watch until she reached the end of the block then as she climbed the steps to her best friend, Robby's house. Once her hot pink sweatshirt disappeared into their house, I would go back inside. Around this same time, my two oldest boys were in elementary school. I had a hard time walking them to t...