The Un-Latched Key Kid #lostandfound

When I was a little girl, I would get lost all of the time. Like seriously…all of the time. Not in the neighborhood, or at school, or wandering cities. No, I reserved my lost adventures for family vacations.

I do not really remember it like my family does. But come to our home on any given day that one or more are gathered sharing my Daddie’s good name. Ask any family member about our vacations growing up – especially my older sisters. They will be able to number them all. “First, she disappeared at…” then, “No, that was AFTER she got lost when we were at…”, and “Remember that time we couldn’t find her? We were going to…”

How did I get lost all those times? If you asked me that question back in then, I would of had no response other than a shrug. But these days I know. I realized it while we were out on the streets of Nashville getting ready to Tap. And Run.

...don't forget about meeeee!

As we were waiting for the race, my eyes began to wander. All of the happy people in costumes. The spectators awaiting the start of the race. All of the energy about the lovely weather. Conversations between lovers, old friends, and strangers. Music. Storefronts. Sale signs. When I looked up, I noticed I was a few many steps behind my running buddy. Without breaking the wonderment of my gaze, I reached out for his arm and latched on. And for the better part of the afternoon he dragged me around 2^nd Avenue until our race wave chugged and took off.

My first “lost and found” memory is from a carnival hosted at my Daddie’s job – Raychem. Ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds, carnival games, circus inspired characters, and county fair type treats! All in the parking lot of his company. This was amazing mostly because we did not have to load up in the station wagon and drive for hours and hours to get there!

I don’t remember how I got separated from my family. I do not remember being scared, or afraid, or lonely, or anxious, or anything like that. What do I remember? Crushing cans with the security guards while I waited (my family searched)…crushing them like it was a contest to see who could do it the fastest. Laughing and smiling. When I tell you I had no worries – I didn’t have a single worry!

This. Is. So. Much. Fun!

My parents burst through the door looking with hopeful worry, completing their quest for their 3^rd holy grail. I looked up at them and smiled. Looking at them as if they were returning home from work.

Mom and Dad? They looked desperate. Tired. Nervous. Anxious. Upset. Afraid. They were actually afraid that they would never see me again. I was perplexed. No matter all the feelings I had that day, I never thought for a second that I wouldn’t see my family again. But something about that day worried my parents to facial expressions I had never seen. Facial expressions I never wanted to see again.

I got lost a couple a few more times after that. Never purposely. Once I figured out my problem, my parents decided against family trips to amusement parks and busy places.

When I was sixteen, I got “lost” at LAX. I was part of a community organizing group, and there was an event in Los Angeles. By this age, I had flown alone to Southern California and possibly Washington DC (that might have been shortly after this) already, so while they were worried, they were fairly confident in my ability to navigate such places, like airports – places with tons of signage and security.

The people coming to pick me up were going to meet me at my arrival gate. This was back in the time when people could do that. Walk with you to the departure gate and meet you at the arrival gate. Literally…the good ole days! I left a message for the people to pick me up with my gate number. Only, I never told them what airline or terminal they could meet me. I kept leaving messages without the necessary details and they kept searching for me.

All the kids are playin!

Eventually, one of the volunteers from the Bay Area, went to my parent’s home to tell them that their child was lost. That I was at the airport, but they could not find me. About half an hour later the person picking me up found me. When I spoke to my father, I could hear his tears. I assured and reassured him that I was fine. He wanted me home immediately. I told him that I was perfectly okay, and that I promise to be with the adults at all times – and check in with him daily.

I remembered that night, in Southern California, as I drifted off to sleep, that day crushing cans in the Security Office at Raychem. I cried, just a little, too. For my Daddie. For all the pain he endured being parted from me. How I so easily got away, got lost - without even knowing it.

I have been latching on to folks ever since.