Terror Comes in Small Packages

There are three kinds of nightmares.
Type 1, is the typical visitation by monstrous creatures.
Type 2, things that have already happened and just won't go away, you continue reliving them over and over and over...
Type 3, stuff that you're afraid of, suppressed during daily life, only to haunt you in the dream state when the brave front comes down, peer pressure no longer an issue clouding our judgment.

Like I've talked about in the past, I don't sleep well. Not because of nocturnal visits by Frankenstein, Dracula or clowns. I don't experience the high anxiety episodes, like going to school naked, being lost, or getting turned away at the pearly gates. I do however have the occasional traumatic, where I've lost one of my children or grandchildren. My kids are always kids in my dream state and they never listen (not that different from the waking state). They never get any older than 10 even though one is pushing 30 in my reality. That part is a little wishful thinking. How perfect would the world be if my daughters never started the cycle, never got to first base, never needed me to do their taxes?

The biggest terror would be losing someone I cared about. Maybe that's why I don't drink milk. It brings to life my fear every time I see a picture of a lost child on the carton. I may even have to stop going to Walmart. The Missing Children's bulletin board sends me home with tears in my eyes. That, and the fact that I never get out of there for less than $50.

Tonight I fear, is going to be one of those lost infant nightmare nights. Today we went to town (we live in the country) to pick up a pizza to enjoy along with the free preview weekend premium channel programming. On the way home, we picked up a little something extra.
We were creeping along, like we do when John's driving (he's such an old woman), when he said in a startled tone "Is that a kid? Running down the street....there!".

I couldn't believe my eyes, he was so small. I wouldn't have seen him if he wasn't wearing a yellow t-shirt. I started to open the truck door while we were still moving. I was going to bolt for him. John crept up a little further and yelled at me "If you're going to get him, hurry up!"
I hopped out and he ran right up to me brightly smiling. He couldn't have been two years old. Wearing mucker's and jeans, with a little brunette tail dangling from the back of his haircut. He had just come over the railroad tracks and was running down the street right towards us. There was nobody around. I didn't see any frightened parents screaming frantically, no open gates or doorways within sight. Two more cars pulled up, one from each direction and asked if we were his parents and I asked them if he looked familiar at all. They were from the country too and couldn't identify him. We felt it best to take him to the police department since there was no clue as to where he came from and he certainly didn't seem to understand anything we asked. If he did, he wasn't talking, just smiling. So innocent and happy to see someone. He only fidgeted a second until I said, we would find his mommy. We then got into the cab and headed toward the local police department. We hadn't gone two blocks and John said he had just seen a policeman and we should take the boy to him. It's such a tiny town we both doubted someone would be in the office on a Sunday evening.

We got back to the quickie mart and the officer was gone, but we knew one lived over a block so we knocked on his door. His adolescent girls went directly to doting over the baby and took him in the house and we left our information with the gentleman. He looked as shocked and pained by the small boys predicament as we were and went straight to making his official calls.

I've been fighting back the tears all day so as not to appear the silly woman that I am. Someone was living my fear today. Worst than that, they recklessly and irresponsibly allowed this angel to wander across busy railroad tracks and down the highway alone. How long had he been out by himself? Did they even notice he was missing? Were they on drugs?

I keep thinking how he looked like my little boyfriend Haven when he was smaller. The way he was running along told me he must be 1 1/2 years old. They have a certain gate at that age due to the diaper. So my mind has been preoccupied with 'what if's?'. What if the train had come through? What if he was on the other side of the highway when the other car came over the railroad hump blindly? What if we weren't there? What if someone else didn't see him? What if he wasn't wearing a yellow t-shirt?
Tomorrow I will call and ask after the child. I'm glad he's safe. I'm furious that whoever was watching him was...well...not watching him.
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3/6/2005 11:43 PM