Read to me...: October 2013

(written October 19, 2013)

Today was a day I won't soon forget.

We headed south early in the morning for the annual Relief Sale at the Arkansas Valley Fairgrounds in Rocky Ford, Colorado. We spent the morning buying food, chatting with friends, buying more food, shopping, and eating.

Each year, the Relief Sale has a barrel train. It is a popular draw for kiddos. The barrel train is hooked to a tractor and wheels children around the fairgrounds for a mere 50 cents a ride. Jack's current love of trains had us a little excited to show him the “train”. Jack was a little hesitant at first, but it didn't take too long for his love of trains and desire to ride in a barrel wheeled by tractor to overcome that fear and he was soon happily climbing into the train. I was a little nervous that Jack might freak a little when he realized that the train went out of view of us as it drove to the far end of the parking lot and then circled around all the buildings on the fairgrounds before returning to the waiting parents. But, only Mama was nervous. Jack returned, pleased as punch with his ride.

As we were getting ready to leave a few hours later, Grandma Sue offered Jack another opportunity to take a train ride. The train was right there and loading, so we quickly put Jack into the only free barrel remaining and the “conductor” came around to collect the fare. The older boys in the barrels behind Jack were much bigger, one so big he couldn't fit both his legs into the barrel he was seated in but none of the other parents seemed bothered, so I pushed my hesitation aside and happily waved to Jack as he was driven away.

Jack, excited about the barrel train ride

And... they're off!

A few minutes later, the train rounded the building nearest us as it returned to the crowd of waiting parents, and I immediately noticed that Jack was missing. In fact, Jack's entire barrel was gone.

“Where's Jack?” I asked the conductor.

“Where is Jack?” he returned.

“This train looks a little different than it did when it left,” I heard a parent say.

“Where is Jack?!” I asked again.

With growing panic, I listened as the conductor explained to us that the train had basically come apart at one point on the ride and Jack had gotten scared. The conductor had removed a frightened Jack from his barrel and, when Jack had refused to sit on the tractor with him for the rest of the ride, he allowed him to walk back.

My brain raced as I tried to make sense of what he said.

“He walked back?!” I asked.

“He's only three!” I wanted to scream.

I started running back toward the place he indicated that the train had broken down, my eyes frantically scanning the people, the cars, the buildings. As I ran, I passed the older boys who had been sitting in the train near Jack, calmly walking back to the crowd of parents, also no longer on the train. But, it didn't register.

I got as far as the edge of the fairground and saw the two broken barrels sitting right next to the open fairground side gate. I looked across the empty street at the neighborhood houses nearby and then back at the fairground behind me and my heart sunk into my shoes. It was suddenly as if the whole world had opened up its mouth and swallowed my child.

“Jack?!” I started screaming.

“Jack?! Jackson?! Jack?!” I ran up and down the road, furiously looking inside buildings, my eyes scanning back and forth.

“JACK?!”

“I can't find him,” I said to somebody I vaguely recognized from church as I ran past. “I don't know where he is!”

My mind raced. Where would he have gone? I wondered. Why isn't he right here?

At some point, somebody explained that the older boys had been bouncing up and down and messing around on the train and that is what had caused it to break, and subsequently scared Jack. Those boys had also walked back, but apparently not with Jack.

Time passed.

And still he didn't appear.

I spotted Nathan quickly walking in and out of buildings, his face pale and his eyes, even from a distance, clearly reflecting his silent panic. I continued to shout Jack's name over and over, running around with no real rhyme or reason.

He just had to be right here. There was no place else he would be, unless somebody took him.

Other people from our church started searching. Somebody tried to reassure me that he had to be with a grown-up somewhere and that he was fine. But, that didn't matter. He wasn't with me. He wasn't here. I was the only grown-up he should be with.

Time passed.

And Jack just kept

not.

showing.

up.

I ran back to Lauren.

“I can't find him. I don't know where he is. Do you know where Nathan went?”

She pointed toward the main building and I started towards it but then, very clearly, I knew it was time to call the police.

I turned back around to go get my phone when Lauren said, “There's Nathan?”

“You found him?” I heard her yell over my head in his direction.

I whipped around.

“You found him? Did you find him?” I asked.

Nathan nodded his head. Too calmly, I thought. It's not real, don't get your hopes up.... Why isn't he holding Jack then?... If he'd found him, he'd have him..... It's amazing the sheer number of thoughts that can race through your brain in an instant.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Over here. He's asking for you,” Nathan told me, and almost in that same second, I saw him.

Relief.

A calm, pretty, short-haired woman was holding Jack outside the main building of the fairgrounds. She was very calm (I think I remember that so clearly because I was so completely the opposite of calm.) He was holding a container of water. He was quiet, almost stunned-looking, as she handed him over to me.

“I was looking for you,” he said, with tears in his eyes.

“I was looking for you!” I told him. “Where were you?”

“I was looking for you,” he repeated.

The woman explained that he had ended up in her coffee serving area and had told her he was lost. She told me that he was very good and when she had asked about his mom, he had told her that she was “tall, strong, 37 years old, and that her name was Mommy.”

I thanked the woman, who told us that she had a three-year-old grandson who was also named Jack. Even though she introduced herself, I think that is the only thing I will ever remember about her. She had a grandson named Jack and she was very calm.

We stood around in a semi-stunned circle for a couple of minutes before we began walking toward the van. We told Jack how brave and smart he was for finding a mom (“or a grandmother” he told us) to help him. He was visibly upset, even tearing up a few times while he talked about being scared on the train and not wanting to go with the man on the tractor and explaining how he just wanted us. “I was looking for my Marika” he said at one point while we were talking about it. Soon after we got on the road, he was fast asleep.

Waves of that same panic continued to follow me throughout the day today. I could think of little else as we drove home. I tried not to ask Jack too many questions, but I was hungry for every detail of his experience, every word that could give me insight into his feelings and thoughts. And as the day continued, and night grew near, I couldn't help but thinking, “what if we hadn't found him...” and the fear would rise up again.

As we were about to eat dinner, I asked Jack a question I ask many nights at the dinner table. “What was your favorite thing about today?”

Do you know what his response was?

“Riding on the train!”