83five
God Time
My four- year- old son, Jackson, was trying to get his straw in the
juice pouch when he got lost in the food court crowd. I thought
he was right behind me, but when we finally found a table and
turned around, we saw he wasn’t there. I figured he couldn’t
have gone far. In fact, he was probably near the live performance
happening over by the stage. I looked everywhere for his red- and-
brown striped shirt and khaki cargo shorts, but I didn’t see him.
As fear started to rise in my throat, I called his name. Surely
he was around the food court somewhere. A few minutes went
by, and I still couldn’t find him. I walked around, frantically
yelling his name louder and louder.
One by one, people came up to me. “Is someone you love
lost? How can I help? What is his name? What is he wearing?
How old is he?”
Complete strangers were willing to act like fools running
around yelling the name of a boy they’d never even met.
Five minutes went by. Ten minutes went by. Fifteen minutes
went by.