"Shelby"

   “This is Zac, I’ve got a missing child at chair 4.” 

    “Go ahead Zac.”

    “Name: Shelby, just turned four...”

    Liz sighed as the alert came across the radio at her side. This was the third missing child today. She stood up in her chair at the same time as the other guards stood in theirs, raising her radio to her ear to catch the rest of the description from Zac.

    “One piece turquoise suit and lime green shorts.”

     He paused.

   “Last seen in the water.”

    Liz’s heart skipped. These were the scenarios she hated the most. Sometimes she even had nightmares about it: they would form the human chain and start combing through the water and thud, she would be the one to bump into the still, small body on the bottom of the swim area. It hadn’t happened yet, but it could.

    “The mother thinks she wanted to go out to look at the buoys.”

Liz glanced over towards chair four. What kind of mother is going to let her four year old go out to the buoys alone? Meg, the head guard, broke through the radio traffic.

    “Okay guys. This one seems a little different, let’s clear the water now, just to be sure.”

She was new and had just come on shift and was probably overreacting, but Liz sure wasn’t going to be the one to complain. She reached for her whistle and megaphone to start clearing the water.

***

    When Taylor heard the alert called across the radio, he started sprinting towards the concession stand. As beach patrol, he played a big role in these land rescues. At least, he was hoping it would be a land rescue. They were already calling everyone out of the water. That was a mistake on Meg’s part, he was sure. Not that any of the guards called her on it, not that any of them would–now–not while they could still be wrong. But afterwards. Afterwards everyone would be talking about it, criticizing Meg, they always did. And afterwards she would have the sun, moon, and stars to deal with, otherwise known as answering to their boss, Bill. The guards would wait 2 minutes now before starting to assemble the human chain. He started searching and calling each area as “cleared” as he went.

***

    Melissa turned desperately to the young man at her side, talking into his radio. “You have to find her! You have to find my daughter!” Why didn’t they do more? No one seemed to be taking her seriously.

    The guard turned and said with maddening calm, “Ma’am, we are looking for your daughter. Do you see all of the guards standing at their chairs? They are watching for her as everyone gets out and as soon as the water is cleared they’ll start searching in the water, too. We’ve made announcements and there are many people who are looking for her all over the park.” 

    Then he turned back to answer a question on the radio. Hadn’t Shelby just been there? Hadn’t she just said, “Mommy I want to go look at the buoys. Can we do that now?” Melissa had said no but then her son Jack had needed more sunscreen and when she looked back up Shelby was gone. Where was she now? Melissa fought the urge to dive in and start looking in the water herself. Instead she started jogging down the beach, leaving Jack with her sister. She scanned the kids playing on the shoreline only vaguely aware of the lifeguard tagging along behind her. Shelby must be here, must have found a new friend to play with, or something! But she wasn’t.

***

    Shelby huddled deeper into the wall, crying. She had just wanted to go see the puppies at the far end of the beach. She thought that her mom was following her, but when she turned around to ask if they could get ice cream, too, she didn’t see anyone that she knew. She took in the hundreds of people covering the sand and splashing in the cool harbor. She just wanted to be back with her mommy. Just wanted to feel her hug again. In the background, the snack shop radio droned on, but she didn’t understand what the were saying.

    “Kayak shed: cleared.”

    “Beach tent: cleared.”

    “Concession men’s bathroom: cleared.”

    “Concession women’s bathroom: cleared”

    “Pavilion: cleared.”

    “Pirates playground: cleared.”

    “Alright. Liz?”

    “At chair two, go ahead.”

    “Make an announcement for all free and able adults to meet at chair two and start organizing the human chain.”

    “Copy.”

    “Picnic tables: cleared.”

    All around Shelby people were buzzing around, flustered. Surely not all of them were looking for her. No, they were checking for their own children. She cried harder.

    “I have a possible confirmation by concession. Repeat: possible confirmation.”

    A man squatted down next to her. He was very tall with a white shirt and a funny curly wire connecting a radio on his shoulder with something at his waist. He slid his sunglasses on top of his head and stooped down further to look her in the eyes. “Are you lost?” he asked. Shelby nodded. “What’s your name?”

    “Shelby.”

    “Shelby, is it okay if I take you to the shore and see if we see your mom?”
    Shelby nodded again and the man scooped her up and started running into the crowd and toward the water. He clicked the radio at his other shoulder saying,

    “This is Taylor. I’ll meet you with the possible confirmation at chair two. Her name is Shelby.”

Poetry Reading

Just got back from a lovely poetry reading by Kwame Dawes. His work is so poignant and it was really cool to get to hear the backstory on each piece. I loved how he used the writing to create windows, glimpses of lives we'd never otherwise know about.

Fairy Tales... Absurd?

Today I started a book called "Fairy Tales Every Child Should Know." Now some view fairy tales with contempt, but are they truly absurd? I would argue not. Here is a quote from the book's introduction, "In the fairy story, men are not set entirely free from their limitation, but, by the aid of fairies, genii, giants and demons, they are put in command of unusual powers and make themselves masters of the forces of nature." It would seem to me that a fairy tale is simply a small attempt to imagine life almost as God originally intended. That is not to say that God planned for humans to count on the aid of genii, per se, but that rather humans acknowledge at least on some level, that we were intended to rule over creation. But that is not the full picture. We were also made to live under God's authority just as creation was to flourish under our authority. This is something that will never be fully obtained in this life, but we must still strive to live redemptively in our day to day lives. And in the mean time, maybe we'll even read some fairy tales again- with a different twist.

"Coffeeshop"

He walked into the urban coffee shop, ducking past the unwelcoming stares of the younger, college crowd who tended to commandeer the open tables at the front for their studying. At least the stares felt unwelcoming, to him. He edged past the sea of laptops towards some booths in the back. She would meet him here. The back corner she had said. It was empty. He set down his coat and then crept back to the counter to quietly order a plain decaf. Back at the table, he waited, tracing the lid over and over with his index finger. What would she say? Just six months left. Then she walked in. She was still just as beautiful as the day they’d been married, in his mind. He stood briefly to catch her eye, managing a quick smile which was smashed to the floor when her gaze locked with his and turned cold. 

New Life!

IT'S OFFICIAL!!!!


I'm registered for a major in English and minors in Creative 


Writing, Honors, and Bible!!! 


The air in fresh and clean. I'm filled with excitement as life


begins again! :)

"Day Job"

Don sighed as he swung open the door of the downtown Chicago coffee shop. The late fall day had a bit of a nip to it and the smell of the special of the month, “Spiced Pumpkin Latte,” swirled through the darkened wood interior. Abi, the chipper barista, smiled up at him as she finished wiping off the black countertop during a momentary lull. “Working late again, Mr. Morgan?” She had a special fondness for the elderly regular. 

“Yes, Abi. I suppose I am.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be taking it easy? Doctor’s orders? Something about only mornings?”

“That was the plan.”

Abi looked teasingly at her watch, saying, “Well?”

“Home is just too quiet–I get bored.”

“You could always come clean my place and watch little Jenner.” They exchanged smiles over the thought of him chasing her mischievous two year old son around Chicago. “No deal, eh? Oh well. What can I get for you today?”

“Hmm, today... a medium of the French roast with a shot of the hazelnut flavoring, I think.” He hoped that would help get rid of his throbbing headache.

“Alright. I’ll bring it over to your table.”

“Thanks, Abi.” Don made his way over to his usual table with the two tall barstools in the corner and pulled the worn notebook from his small Italian leather briefcase. He turned to the first blank page and smoothed out the crinkled corner with his thumb. Thinking back over Abi’s comment about watching Jenner, he sighed. He had three grandchildren of his own but probably knew more about Abi’s son than about any of them. His kids probably wouldn’t even let him take care of them if he asked to. They kept him at a distance. Conversations were sparse and cold. And he knew it was his own fault. “If only I knew then what I know now! It didn’t have to be that way! I thought that it was normal to sacrifice your family on the altar of business. And where did that get me? One of the top businessman in Chicago and a family who won’t say more than ten words to me at one time.” His eyes fell to the death grip he had on his pen and he forced himself to relax. That was the reason he was writing this. He had seen so much in his lifetime, been so many interesting places, spoken with so many fascinating people. He wanted to tell his family all about it, but they wouldn’t listen, maybe later they would read about it. He took a sip from the cup that Abi had placed on his table and started in where he had left off.

By the time Abi glanced up, the cab had already crashed through the glass and mowed down two tables. The driver’s door flew open and Frankie jumped out. “One Iced White Mocha Latte, please.” 

“Frankie,” Abi said scowling, “does this look like a drive thru to you?”

“Hey, I’m sorry, I meant to hit the breaks, I really did. But a customer is a customer and mine is in the back of that cab and wants his drink. It’s urgent, you know?”

Abi pulled out a stack of forms and slammed it on the counter. “You know the drill. Fill these out and I make the drink. We just got the window fixed from last month’s “urgent customer!”

“Frankie? Frankie Smirnenski?” Don asked, rising from his table.

“Donnie?” Frankie said in disbelief. “It’s really you! I haven’t seen you since the ten year reunion! How’ve ya been?”

“You know Mr. Morgan?” Abi asked, turning from the drink she was preparing.

“Yeah! We were college roommates way back!”

Don picked his way over the broken glass and wood fragments. “You left after taking that creative writing course, right? What happened to those plans?”

“Oh,” Frankie said with a grin, “this is just my day job!” 

"News"

Amy was glad for the cover of darkness as they pulled out of the driveway. She glanced over at her husband, Paul, who was driving, as she worried her lip. What would he think of her news? She hoped he’d be happy, but she wasn’t sure anymore. Lately he’d been acting a little strange. There had been several times when she’s caught him just frozen in place over common things, like the view from their backyard overlooking the wooded mountains or turn around and find he was quietly watching her make the morning coffee in their kitchen. He always seemed like he was trying to soak it all in, memorize every detail. It was just different. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen. “Relax Amy,” she told herself. “You go out for dinner every Friday night. Nothing’s going to be different. You’re just worried about ‘the news.’ Just enjoy yourself!” Her mini pep talk were completely interrupted as Paul violently swerved to the left, muttering something under his breath. “Was it a deer?” she asked, but before the words were all the way out he swerved to the right and they were flying down an access road. 

“Paul? What’s going on?”

“Just trust me, Aim.”

Her heart rate began to slow back down as they followed the road and turned onto another highway. She forced a steady exhale but just then a truck came over the top of the hill from the opposite direction veering crazily in and out of their lane at high speeds.

“Really?” Paul asked. “I thought I’d lost them!”

Amy looked over at Paul’s white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and questioned “Who are they?” The question hung in the air, unanswered as Paul focussed on evading the approaching truck. Just when they would clear one vehicle another would pop out of seemingly nowhere and try to run them down or force them off the road. Turn after turn, road after road, the chase continued. Amy had long given up trying to keep track of where they were and was just grateful that Paul had grown up in this area. He knew each possible route like the back of his hand. 

Finally they turned down a a long dirt road that snaked its way into a darkened valley. There was no sign of their pursuers and Paul had slowed down a bit since turning their lights off. The back window was cracked so they would be able to hear anything out of the ordinary for the sleepy valley. He turned to her partway. “I’ve stayed too long already. I’m going to have to leave.” The silence hung between them. “For a while.”

“Not now,” Amy said, tears beginning to quietly course down her cheeks.

“Look Amy, I know this is hard. But we both knew it would probably happen at some point.”

“I know,” she choked slightly, “but not now.”

“Why not now?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words finally out, she broke down. Paul slammed on the brakes and stared at his wife. He hadn’t expected this. The car stood in the middle of empty meadows interspersed with tall pine trees. For a minute, crickets chirped, then they heard it. Tires screeched and stones flew as their pursuers rounded the corner and began the decline into the valley. Paul floored the gas and they were off again.

Amy collected her thoughts. When it seemed they were clear from the pursuers again she said, “I’ll come with you.”

“You can’t,” he said, his voice riddled with pain.

“But Paul! It’s okay, really! We could get new names, start again, come back to this place in a year or so after all this has been forgotten...”

He raised his hand to stop her. “You know it wouldn’t work, Aim. Two people aren’t nearly as easy to hide as one. And besides, we can’t risk it.”

“Risk what?” she asked, incredulous.

All of the sudden Paul pulled the car to a stop behind an orchard. “I have to do everything I can to keep you safe. Both of you safe.”

Amy felt her world was a tangled mass of rope that had just been jettisoned off a cliff. 

“Get out of the car,” Paul began.

“What?!” Amy cried.

“This is the only way. Just trust me, Aim.” He squeezed her hand and hit the unlock button. “Through the orchard is Aunt Pat’s house. She’ll know what to do. Stay with her and listen to whatever she says. The lights are off now, but when you get inside safely flick the back light twice.”

Amy could only manage a quick nod.

“She’s expecting you, don’t worry. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Amy threw her arms around him and then ran for the house. Tears blinded her and she tripped and stumbled along the way. She raced up the steps and pounded on the door. Aunt Pat opened it right away.

“Oh Amy. I’m so sorry, dear.”

Amy rushed past her, knowing that each passing second make the difference in Paul’s escape. “The lights. The lights.” She flicked them twice and heard Paul fly down the lane. Her job done, she let herself slide down onto the floor and weep.