Okay, I’ll admit it. Sometimes I’m directionally challenged. I could get lost in an elevator or go the wrong way on an escalator.
No matter what age you may be, the experience of being lost is the same for everyone: complete and utter hopelessness.
I should know. I found myself lost last weekend, and an old familiar wave of dread washed over me and almost knocked me down.
But how I found myself lost in the middle of a crowd of over a thousand strangers, out of breath, and weeping…well, that’s the end of this story. Here’s the beginning:
The year we moved into 110 Flamingo Street I had just turned seven, and there were a lot of firsts.
It was the first time I was beaten up by Down the Street Bully Brad, the first time my three brothers and me played street football with a stolen coconut, and the first time we rode inside a giant tractor tire down the hill in our backyard.
It was also the first time I ended up completely lost, with tears streaming down my face as I ran aimlessly through the Haunted Forest in the middle of the night.
The hill in our backyard bellied out into the leading edge of a swamp.
To the right was a narrow trail that led up to and around a lake then continued around the giant oak tree with the rope swing, snaked its way deep into the Haunted Forest and eventually poured out into a dead end.
My brothers and I never ventured into the dark interior alone. Still, one night I found myself lost deep in the forest, but it wasn’t because I entered on my own free will.
No, I was running for my life from Bully Brad.
That first summer we live on Flamingo Street, Bully Brad decided to make me his own personal punching bag.
By November I’d finally had enough and decided to fight back by always keeping not one but two dirt clods in my pockets. One Saturday, I got my chance.
Right after sundown, Bully Brad had chased me around the lake and into the Haunted Forest to the trail’s end.
That’s where he stopped. Even the meanest bully on all of Flamingo Street didn’t want to venture any farther into the darkened forest without a trail to follow.
I just kept running and for good reason. I’d hit him with not one, but both dirt clods.
It was justified. He had beaten me up the day before and was looking to do it again, only this time I beat him to the punch (or, to the dirt clods).
Half an hour later, it was the first time I found myself hopelessly lost, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Long before the age of cell phones and GPS, I got lost driving anytime we went on vacation.
So lost that our location couldn’t even be found on a map. Over the years of driving around aimlessly, I’ve learned a few things.
First, you always get lost when your gas tank is on empty. You always get lost when you have to use the bathroom.
Most importantly, if your wife has already told you for the last twenty miles that you are going in the wrong direction, then it’s probably about time to admit you’re indeed lost.
Unfortunately, The Wife wasn’t around last weekend when I was lost.
You see, she was lost also, which brings us all the way back to the beginning of this story.
Due to emergency babysitting of our granddaughters, The Wife and I almost didn’t get to the airport on time.
In the rush, I left my cell phone in the car so when we got separated going through airport security with only 30 minutes before our flight was to leave, there was no way to contact her.
I waited, searched around security for 10 minutes, rode the train to the gate only to find she wasn’t there, discovered I had her boarding pass, and then rode the train back to security.
She wasn’t there either. With only 10 minutes left, I had to go back through security, ride the train and then start to hobble down six gates to our gate, but time had run out. Our flight had left.
In the huge crowd I felt lost and exhausted, and then started weeping. I had lost the most precious person in this world.
Then I remembered what Mom had said when she and Dad found me in the Haunted Forest so many years ago, “Never give up hope.
Never lose faith and things will work out.” That’s when The Wife came running over. Seems she didn’t get on the airplane after all. She had been looking for me the whole time.
She also felt lost. We exchanged a reassuring hug and kiss, then made our way to the gate to try and book another flight. To our surprise, our flight had been delayed thirty minutes due to mechanical issue and we were on time after all.
Mom was right, things do work out.
Even when everything seems hopeless, you feel lost, and you’ve lost the most important thing in the world, everything can still work out–as long as you never give up hope.
[Rick Ryckeley, who lives in Senoia, served as a firefighter for more than two decades and has been a weekly columnist since 2001. His email is storiesbyrick@gmail.com. His books are available at www.RickRyckeley.com.]
