She was so young, three or four, when a little girl in her

neighborhood went missing. She remembered groups of her

neighbors walking down the street calling out to the lost child. Men

dressed in bright vests scoured backyards and ditches. There was

an air of urgency in their searching. She wondered why they

wouldn’t listen as she tried to tell them that she knew where the

little girl was. That the child was safe but so very scared and alone.

She tried to get the grown-ups to follow her up the road to the dark

culvert where she knew that the missing child hid with her legs

pulled up to her chest, trying to keep warm. No one amongst the

multitude followed her though. No one ever seemed to hear her

voice.

     Abruptly the young girl awoke in bed, still hearing what seemed

like a distant crowd calling out to the lost one. Drenched in her own

sweat, she felt the same urgency to find the missing child that the

adults had presented in her dream. She felt this urgency for years

until one day she allowed herself to listen to her own voice from

long ago. Only then did she go to the young girl and save herself.