Vanished

Kevvie is on the east coast with three friends, on his ten-day summer road trip. Yesterday he called from his beach-towel perch at Virginia Beach. I did not realize the beach was on the agenda, which is probably just as well.

I hyperventilated just a little when he told me where he was. You see, our family took a trip to Virginia Beach once, when Kevvie was three. He fell in with a group of little boys who'd dug a large hole in the sand with their plastic shovels. They were attempting, I guess, to end up on the other side of the whole wide world in China, or maybe just at the Go-Kart joint across the street. Who can say with three-year-old boys?

The boys and Kevvie joined forces, and shovels, within three feet of where Doug and I sat. But we must have turned our heads once, perhaps toward each other, perhaps to whisper quick sweet nothings or gaze into each other's sun-kissed eyes. After all, we'd only been married eleven years that summer--we were practically newlyweds.

And in that instant, Kevvie disappeared. The other little boys were still kneeling over their cavernous hole, concentrating on their work, oblivious to the fact that one of their number had gone missing.

I cannot express the terror that filled our hearts in that moment. We began shouting out our son's name, and Scotty and Carrie raised their voices along with ours. Our fears instantly drew our eyes to the edge of the deep, where the most horrible danger resided, but then our minds quickly processed all the other very real possibilities, including The Invasion of The Baby Snatchers.

Within seconds, we alerted a lifeguard to our dilemma, and described our child in as much detail as we could. I had already grown nearly hysterical, and could only say that Kev's color-block swimming trunks were "orange, or maybe purple, or are they turquoise?" The lifeguard must have thought I'd lost my senses completely, but the trunks really were all those colors. "And he's tiny and fragile, but with the most enormous blue eyes and beautiful long lashes..."

How could I live without those eyes?

In another thirty seconds, a whole string of lifeguards up and down the beach had been notified and scanned their areas for a little lost boy. By the time one of them located our wandering son--who'd been innocently looking for the hole-digging buddies he'd misplaced and headed out in search of them--he was the distance of several blocks down the beach. Still hoping to find his little buddies, still dreaming of digging himself a big hole to somewhere.

"But, Kevvie," I said, "we told you to stay right beside us. Why did you go on such a long walk?"

"To find my friends," he said, and it was hard to argue with logic like that.

So I answered the phone and it was my Kevin. He's finally found his friends on Virginia Beach, perhaps right where he left them seventeen summers ago. As you might imagine, his eyes are still beautiful, the lights of my life, but they don't shine only for me anymore.

Who knows where he and his friends will end up? Will they dig their way through the center of the sand, until they reach the other side of the world? Or will their journeys keep them closer to their homes, far from the risks of the ocean's edge?

All I know is that my little boy has completely disappeared in everyone's eyes but his father's and mine. And that in place of a baby, a grown man embraces the waves of this life, his friends close by his side.

Posted by Katy on 06/08/05 at 02:21 PM

Fallible Comments...

What a wonderful story.
With having two little ones I can completely relate to that sinking feeling when you can't find your child. Mine did a similar thing not too long ago at the park. I had taken my eyes off of her for about 10 seconds and she was gone. She was found wandering not too far away looking for me. (She was only a few feet from me before she started her search!)
-----
Posted by Pattie on 06/09/05 at 05:39 PM
This was beautiful. You have a real gift. Keep writing :)
Posted by Lorna on 06/11/05 at 07:26 PM

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Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	Vanished Kevvie is on the east coast with three friends, on his ten-day summer road trip. Yesterday he called from his beach-towel perch at Virginia Beach. I did not realize the beach was on the agenda, which is probably just as well. I hyperventilated just a little when he told me where he was. You see, our family took a trip to Virginia Beach once, when Kevvie was three. He fell in with a group of little boys who'd dug a large hole in the sand with their plastic shovels. They were attempting, I guess, to end up on the other side of the whole wide world in China, or maybe just at the Go-Kart joint across the street. Who can say with three-year-old boys? The boys and Kevvie joined forces, and shovels, within three feet of where Doug and I sat. But we must have turned our heads once, perhaps toward each other, perhaps to whisper quick sweet nothings or gaze into each other's sun-kissed eyes. After all, we'd only been married eleven years that summer--we were practically newlyweds. And in that instant, Kevvie disappeared. The other little boys were still kneeling over their cavernous hole, concentrating on their work, oblivious to the fact that one of their number had gone missing. I cannot express the terror that filled our hearts in that moment. We began shouting out our son's name, and Scotty and Carrie raised their voices along with ours. Our fears instantly drew our eyes to the edge of the deep, where the most horrible danger resided, but then our minds quickly processed all the other very real possibilities, including The Invasion of The Baby Snatchers. Within seconds, we alerted a lifeguard to our dilemma, and described our child in as much detail as we could. I had already grown nearly hysterical, and could only say that Kev's color-block swimming trunks were "orange, or maybe purple, or are they turquoise?" The lifeguard must have thought I'd lost my senses completely, but the trunks really were all those colors. "And he's tiny and fragile, but with the most enormous blue eyes and beautiful long lashes..." How could I live without those eyes? In another thirty seconds, a whole string of lifeguards up and down the beach had been notified and scanned their areas for a little lost boy. By the time one of them located our wandering son--who'd been innocently looking for the hole-digging buddies he'd misplaced and headed out in search of them--he was the distance of several blocks down the beach. Still hoping to find his little buddies, still dreaming of digging himself a big hole to somewhere. "But, Kevvie," I said, "we told you to stay right beside us. Why did you go on such a long walk?" "To find my friends," he said, and it was hard to argue with logic like that. So I answered the phone and it was my Kevin. He's finally found his friends on Virginia Beach, perhaps right where he left them seventeen summers ago. As you might imagine, his eyes are still beautiful, the lights of my life, but they don't shine only for me anymore. Who knows where he and his friends will end up? Will they dig their way through the center of the sand, until they reach the other side of the world? Or will their journeys keep them closer to their homes, far from the risks of the ocean's edge? All I know is that my little boy has completely disappeared in everyone's eyes but his father's and mine. And that in place of a baby, a grown man embraces the waves of this life, his friends close by his side. Posted by Katy on 06/08/05 at 02:21 PM Fallible Comments... What a wonderful story. With having two little ones I can completely relate to that sinking feeling when you can't find your child. Mine did a similar thing not too long ago at the park. I had taken my eyes off of her for about 10 seconds and she was gone. She was found wandering not too far away looking for me. (She was only a few feet from me before she started her search!) ----- Posted by Pattie on 06/09/05 at 05:39 PM This was beautiful. You have a real gift. Keep writing :) Posted by Lorna on 06/11/05 at 07:26 PM Page 1 of 1 pages Commenting is not available in this weblog entry. Next entry: And Brother, It May Be This Very Day! Previous entry: Road Trip << Back to main


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri