It had been an exhausting day at Disneyland. I expected to be driven around from ride to ride in my blue polka-dotted stroller, my parents tiredly pushing me. As it turns out, I’ve apparently grown “much too old for that.” My parents went on about how my brothers could walk and how I had to stop being so dependent. They were at least five years older than me and I began to point that out, but stopped myself and decided to just give up on it.

My family ventured for long hours around Disneyland, and I became very sore and tired. My gaiety excitement of when we first arrived at “The Happiest Place On Earth” had disappeared as I lazily limped along, trailing 10 feet behind my family. It came to a point where I was so beat from the long walk, my feet gave out and I sat down right in the middle of the walkway just to prove to my parents that driving me in a stroller would have been the smarter choice. But my parents, fussing with my annoying brothers, seemed to not notice my absence and continued to walk on without me. My young and reliant self expected to see my parents turning back to look for me. But I saw nothing and felt an uneasiness as the most crazy and confusing ideas suddenly clouded my thoughts. The effort that the families took to avoid stepping on me was very evident as the heavy footsteps would come towards me, making me feel like I was going to get trampled, and then abruptly turn away. The concerned expressions plastered on the families’ faces screamed out something along the lines of “What in the world is this girl doing?” or “Where are her parents?”. All of the stares and glances in my direction made me feel unwanted. I strained to hear my name faintly called but I only heard the cheerful chatter that escaped out of the excited children.

Despite my attempts to refrain from crying, a tear dripped down my cheek and I tasted the bitter saltiness in my mouth. I sat in my little space for what felt like hours, until a Disneyland employee discovered my little self and stared down at me sympathetically. I studied her for a while and noticed every unusual element of her outfit as if I was analyzing two pictures and trying to find the differences between them.

“Are you lost?” She asked me kindheartedly. I sniffled and nodded, facing down and staring at the tiny puddles my tears made.“Here, I’ll help you find your parents. What’s your name?”

My mom always nagged me to never talk to strangers, and I started to wonder how she was “conveniently” not there. I secretly suspected she hid behind a nearby bench and that this was a test. Inside, I felt relieved inside knowing she was in hearing distance and that I wasn’t actually lost. So I kept my mouth shut and avoided eye contact with the nice woman. The many lectures of not talking to strangers came along the talks of not listening to strangers and not following or going home with strangers. I kept telling myself that as I knew there would be a reward when my mom found out I listened to her enduring talks all along. I continued to sit there and fiddle with my shoelaces. By the time I was bored of staring at the ground pointlessly, I surmised the woman would be replaced by my mom looking down at me proudly. But when I looked up, I was surprised to see not only the woman from before, but two other women as well standing alongside one another. They exchanged glances and whispered such advanced vocabulary a seven year old wouldn’t understand. It finally hit me that I really was just a lost little girl.

I now faced a dilemma in which my mind debated for a long time. Should I follow the staff members in hope of finding my parents, or just stay put in fear of getting in trouble with my parents for not obeying their orders? Going with my gut, I decided to just follow the employees and see what happens from there.