Damian's Disappearance

After weeks of insistent begging, my dad finally showed up to fix a leak in the bathtub. Thank God, because my two and a half year old son Damian and I love to bathe and play in it as often as possible. It's the most relaxing moment of my day

Raising even just one child is not as easy as it seems. Being a responsible mother means you cannot be selfish. Of course, I enjoy it immensely, but it's exhausting. My reward is his love, and I feel well rewarded. I have to alternate a little exasperation with the constant attention he requires, and the incredible joy he brings to my life, but definitely good times abound.

To wake up every morning and see his serene face next to mine, it is an indication of another glorious day. Then at night, when he finally falls asleep. I feel blessed, I wish the next one hundred years to be exactly like this.

My son is the most precious thing in the universe. Most mothers in the world would make this claim, but I know I'm the only one who's right. That's it, no more arguments allowed in this matter.

When we finish taking our bath and playing, I return to reality after I see the mess we can make in just one hour. I didn't put a diaper on him yet. I know he peed at least three times in the tub. I let him roam around the room naked. I know he feels free and happy. He runs and jumps, sings and dances. He jumps to the bed and jumps back down, goes under it and appears on the other side and keeps running around. 

Then he stops and asks, "What's that?" pointing to my middle body. "My belly button," I respond, then he ignores me again. Then, when he notices the window's shadow on the carpeted floor, he asks again, "What's that?" I explain to him about the sun, the window and the shadow.

When the doorbell rings, I remember about a dozen things I need to do. I hurry up dressing and go downstairs to find a parcel from the UPS man next to my door. It's a book I ordered, "Shadows on the Floor" What a coincidence. I'll start reading it tonight.

In the kitchen, I start preparing Damian's breakfast and coffee for me. I suddenly think about how quiet it is upstairs, but I don't become worried because I always drain the tub while I'm still in it. Damian is not wearing a diaper and I don't want to imagine a mess in the carpet, but I still do. I go back upstairs expecting to find him still jumping on the bed, but the room is awfully quiet and I don't see him on the bed or on the floor or in the bathroom or anywhere, I look for him in the closet, under the bed, nothing, then I start calling him, "Damian, where are you?" in a playful manner.

Like all kids, he loves to play hide and seek but only if I suggest it. Well, maybe not anymore.

Upstairs we have four bedrooms and another bathroom. I start tiptoeing in the first bedroom, "Damian, where are you?" After I look in the last bedroom I begin to panic. Now the game is over, and I get serious. I start screaming and looking faster and more thoroughly. I go back to the master bedroom, and the bathroom and the closet and the rest of the rooms. Then I run downstairs and look for him everywhere, every single room, every single corner.

Then I really panic and begin to scream louder as I go outside. Then when I see the UPS brown truck parked in the corner, I run to it to look inside. As I come out of the vehicle, the driver appears and says, "Hey lady, what the hell . . . ?"

"I can't find my son anywhere, you just delivered a parcel to my house, and I thought . . . just call the cops please," I say frantically, while running back to my house.

After I call 911, I inspect the whole house again and the backyard too, I check the ditch next to to my neighbor's fence too. My house is on a slopping hill, and I was always afraid of this ditch, but Damian's not here either. What's happening God? Where is he? He can't disappear just like that, this is not possible, why Damian? We didn't do anything bad to anybody, we don't deserve this. Come on God! Give him back to me!

All the neighborhood is on alert now. I manage to call my husband, and he's on his way home now. Two police officers show up and place an Amber Alert, however, I cannot give them a logical explanation about my son's disappearance. My husband arrives. Oh God, I just I want to die. After long hours of crying and inconsolable pain, somebody gives me a couple of pills and things calm down. The night appears to last only a few seconds. In the morning, the sun comes up only to remind me that it wasn't a dream.

My heart breaks again. I miss my son, the absence of his little face, his lovely smile. My heart breaks  again and again. This is unbearable. My heart is vacant and my whole life seems empty.

I drag my feet down to the kitchen. My husband's there, he looks like I feel . . .  defeated. "Coffee's ready," he says, as he hugs me and gives me a kiss. My husband is not enough, I think, and I regret my thought. I need my baby, he is the main reason of my existence. I kiss my husband again, and regret my thoughts again.

Then we hear some little steps coming down from the stairs and an angel shows up.

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Daddy!"

It is Damian! He's naked, just like yesterday morning when he disappeared! God exists!

"Where were you baby?" I ask him ten times in a row, after I kiss him ten times in a row, with my eyes full of joyful tears.

"Little sister, little sister, Katana," He replies barely intelligibly, then he runs upstairs, and we run behind him. Then he shows us the window's shadow on the floor, and pointing at it with his little finger he says, "little sister there, little sister there!"

A week later I found out I was pregnant, later we got the news, it's a girl. We already picked the name . . . Katana.

The room looks darker now. I called my dad and asked him to remove the window and cover it forever with drywall. I like it that way.

The following day, Damian asked:

"Mommy, Mommy, where's my window? I want to see my sister." 

"Your little sister is here," I said, while rubbing my tummy.



EDMUNDO BARRAZA
Visalia, CA. 04-19-2012
http://edbar1952-accomplishedignorant.blogspot.com/