Last Sunday, the family and I were enjoying a lovely, lazy picnic in Cornwall Park. I looked around and there were so many activities going on - some kids were cycling, others were playing tennis, others croquet, and others just throwing ball.
My kids had gone to climb trees and my dh and I lay back, tummy's full and people watching. It was an amazing scene. There were so many groups and families and we were all separate but enjoying the lovely shared space.
I leaned over to my husband and commented that although we all seemed apart, I got the feeling that we would all pull together if something bad happened, such as someone having a heart attack. He smiled, agreed, and said, "or if a child went missing".
I kid you not, in less than ten minutes following this conversation we heard a mama yelling for her daughter Miah. More voices joined in, and mum's voice reached near-hysteria. My husband and I jumped up - he dashed toward the carpark as I called "How old is she and what is she wearing?"
"Camouflaged pants - and she's three" came the reply.
I desperately scanned the trees, as the husband searched the parking lot, and the mother screamed and others searched. It was that moment of terror, where my heart was in my throat, and I can still hear the desperation in that mums voice.
She leaned against a tree sobbing. Everyone was too busy searching to comfort her.
Suddenly the cry came: "There she is!"
Little Miah, with her gorgeous curls and camouflaged pants was found not too far away, wandering among the trees.
Mum was still screaming. "They've got her," I yelled over the paddock. She looked at me, but she couldn't hear me, or if she could, the words weren't sinking in.
Another woman went to her, her arm circled her. I couldn't hear the words, but I could see the body language. Mum ran like the wind over to where Dad had picked up Miah, who was now sobbing at all the attention.
It was every parent's worst nightmare. One of our biggest fears. And through it all, the key question had been, not her name, but what was she wearing. I'm not sure I would remember what colour shirt my four kids had on each day, but I'm much more cautious about looking - really looking at them first.
Tags: child, lost
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