“Mom? Dad?”

I frantically look around my surroundings. I try to find the man with the short, spiky hair. I try to find the woman with the soft, caring face. But I can’t. I can’t seem to find my parents through the traffic of vacationers and rushed businessmen. Everyone looks so rushed.


As fear starts creeping over me, I begin to realize that everything seems to be louder. I can hear the loud booms of the footsteps beating against the tile floor, which blares in my ears, causing me to tremble. The strident sound of talking echoes throughout the large building. The roaring of the airplanes can be heard. However, throughout all of the various sounds surrounding me, the thunderous thumps of my fast, pulsating heart is the loudest of all.


“Someone help me find my parents!” I repeat over and over.

But no matter how loud I cry out, no one hears me. Everyone is so caught up in their own business. I feel indiscernible. I feel useless. I feel so small and tiny. Person after person walks by me. I know that they can hear my cries for help, but yet, they ignore me. Why won’t anyone help me? Here I am lost. Here I am with the oozy feeling in my stomach. Here I am asking for help. I want to cry. I can feel the cold waters in my eyes, ready to burst out onto my cheeks. But I fight them. No help comes.


I wonder through the large airport with a clueless and desperate look on my face. I take small, cautious steps. My legs are shaking too much to take long proper steps. I keep my eyes wide open for my parents. I weave back and forth through all of the travelers, with my sweaty palms. Everything feels faster. It feels as if someone has pushed the fast motion button. I don’t like the feeling. I don’t like it that I’m fighting my tears. I don’t like it that my stomach feels funny. I don’t like the fact that I am lost.


Soon enough, this intoxicating rush of fear rushes over me. I soon realize that I am really lost. I soon realize that I will never see my parents again. I start to panic. I start to take short gasps for air, trying to calm down my inevitable trepidation. I just want to collapse and roll into a tight ball, and wish that all of the noise and the fear will wane. But as fast as that feeling seeped into me, it is gone even faster. A hand touches my small, skinny shoulders. Then, a familiar voice is heard.


“Don’t worry. You’re safe.”