Missing...

There's been a lot of buzz around here lately about a 12 year old girl that's gone missing. I watched the news last night, my stomach wrenched in knots, as they searched the river for clues. These kinds of stories always make me uneasy. They cause me to question humanity, and personal safety. The last job that I had was a 45 minute drive from home on the highway and some back country roads. Most nights I would drive home late, listening to music or debriefing my shift in my head. I never really worried too much about my safety. Then one evening, a few months ago, I was making my way home. I came to an open field on the side of the highway where a handful of police vehicles were parked. There were a number of police officers combing the field beyond the barbed-wire fence. I slowed down a bit to take a look, then continued on my way. The rest of the drive home is a blur. I couldn't stop thinking about what they may have been searching for.

For the next week or so, the same senario played out on my way home from work. My shift at the time ended just before dusk, and each night they were back in that same field "searching". Every time I passed them I got the same uneasy feeling. Whatever they were looking for, they still hadn't found it.

That week I started to question my safety. I was still living at home with my mom at the time. She usually knew when I was working, but beyond that, she hardly ever questioned my whereabouts. I would try to call her before I went out for the evening, or stayed at a friend's place, but sometimes days would go by without contact. I wondered how long it would take for her to notice if something happened to me. If I didn't come home she would assume I'd slept out, and everyone else would assume I'd gone home. When I was in high school, mom always questioned me, and knew exactly where I was supposed to be at all times. I remember making a huge fuss over this, because I just wanted my freedom. Little did I know how much I would come to miss the concern that she had for me.

After a week of passing this grim scene on the side of the highway, it finally really got to me. I became so overwhelmed with the thought of my friends and family not questioning where I was, that I pulled off the highway in tears and called home. My mom picked up the phone, and through my tears I said something like this, "Mom? How come you never call to check on me anymore? What if something happened to me and you thought I was out for the night, but really I was missing? You wouldn't notice for days, and by then it would be too late. I'm scared that something will happen to me, and you won't think to look for me. Can you start checking in on me again? You can call every day, tens times a day if you want to. I just want you to know that I'm ok." She kinda chuckled, and told me to drive home safely and that she would be waiting there for me. I pulled myself together and got back on the road.

That night when I made it home we hugged for a long time, then we had a long talk about the whole situation. We talked about how I fought so hard for more freedom, then once I had it I didn't know what to do with myself. I felt so vulnerable. She agreed to call me more often, and I started checking in a lot more. I would call her sometimes in the middle of the night just to let her know that I was on my way home. Even now, living 5000kms apart, I get excited when she calls to check in on me. Its such a blessing to have a mother that worries about you, despite what I thought when I was younger.

I hope that wherever that young girl is, she knows that people are worried about her too...