It is amazing that with one flash, one prominent moment in time, we can be taken back, whizzed back to a time long left dormant in our log term memory. My moment was me at 6 or 7, being in North or South Carolina (I can’t remember which now) at a huge market with my immediate family and my Aunt Star, Uncle Leonard and their daughter, Michelle. So we were at this market, doing my favorite thing (now, not then)- shopping. I remember happily looking around and all of a sudden, I didn’t see any of my family members any more- none. So I decided to wander backwards from my present spot to try to find them. This journey I set out on seemed like an eternity to 6 or 7-year-old me; although I do remember being very calm and thinking to myself that this setback (being lost) was no big deal. I knew that the family was going to a restaurant for lunch; I would simply meet them there. Problem was, I didn’t know the restaurant’s name, and even that didn’t deter my optimistic feelings about my current situation. Eventually, I wandered back to the market and saw my Aunt Star. So happy was I to see her, but she seemed less so. Surprisingly, she started yelling at me and was taking the stance that the blame was in fact mine for getting lost as well as guilt-tripping me by telling me that the family was about to signal the cops in order to widen the search for me…

Fast forward 20 some years. I’m out for a bike ride with my Mom in a mountain town. This is a path we’ve taken before, traveling the route is almost like clock-work. I stop at the spot that we have for the past couple of rides and wait, but my Mom doesn’t appear. So I retrace my ride a little ways. No sign of Mom. At that point, I decide to turn around and continue on the bike path, figuring that she can’t have a gotten that far. Every turn of my bike pedals brings my memory of being lost back to me, but this time instead of feeling calm and collected, I am a big ball of worry. What if something happened to her? What if she fell off her bike and is no longer on the path? What if she has been taken to the hospital? I don’t have my phone and neither does she. How could she reach me? Thoughts go through my mind like this until… I see her sitting by the lake, waiting. And when I get the spot where she is sitting, thinking that nothing is amiss, I do find myself acting a bit like Aunt Star did, asking her pointedly why she didn’t come to our regular stopping spot. And then, much like my childhood self, the tears start to well up because I’m so happy to see her, relieved that she is okay.

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