I'm not sure this is the place for this, maybe it should be in Becky's story telling.... but here goes. It was a beautiful sunny day in the summer of 2002. Our home was alive with loving care, both inside and outside. The yard was green, and the grapevines were heavy with ripe concords. On the deck across the back of the house, we had a small wading pool with fresh clean water for our three year old son to splash in. I had earlier that morning had to hunt amid the grapevines for him as he disappeared amongst the vines. He laughingly came out when called with his face purple and juices dripping down his chubby little chin. As I set about washing dishes and watching him play in his pool outside the kitchen window, I get a phone call from my mother. She has decided to take me up on the offer of an unused computer desk. About two hours later, Mom pulls up in her small Nissan pick up truck. Tommy, our son, is delighted to see "MawMaw" and runs to her. She loves him up and sets him down to play again in his pool. We load up the desk on her little truck and she tells me that she must go. She has some groceries to pick up on the way home and doesn't want dark to set in before she gets there. I lean down into the cab of the truck and kiss her goodbye. Inside, I find my husband sitting on the couch as cartoons play on the television. After a couple of minutes, I ask where Tommy is. I thought he had come inside to watch TV with Daddy. George, my husband, says "No, he was outside playing in the pool." With a mother's concern, but without alarm, I go outside on the deck. The pool sets calmly. No splashes on the deck. No Tommy to be seen. I come back inside and ask George if he is sure Tommy didn't come inside. He gets up and starts to help me hunt for our child. I search the house over, his room, the bathroom, our room. All the while, my husband is outside calling him, checking the grapevines, the wood edges around the property, the swing. When we cannot locate him in the places he would normally be, we start becoming alarmed. We check under the hot tub cover, in the decorative well in the yard, up and down the road. We met breathlessly in the house and panicking now called 911. He has now been "missing" about 20 minutes, but to us it felt like hours. I felt like I was in a nightmare. I felt like shattering from the inside out. Where is my baby? The first police car drives up in just a few minutes and calmly asks the appropriate questions. He looks the yard over and asks to look inside the house, saying something about children playing "hide and seek". I beg him to come inside and find him. After his effecient five minute search, he says something inaudible into his radio. Within minutes the driveway and the entire street is inundated with police cars and people everywhere. A police lady has taken up vigil by my side, trying to reassure me. I'm bawling and pleading, inbetween praying and becoming more hysterical. Some policeman asks me for an item of my son's "for the dogs". He doesn't want me to touch it. I have nothing! I just washed clothes and had nothing "dirty" for them. The pillowcase! Yes... He places it with gloves in a plastic bag. My mind is taking me places I do not want to go. I mention the ponds in and through the woods around our home. I hear helicopters searching overhead. There are people everywhere in the woods and around our home. I'm printing pictures on the home computer for reference for them. Divers are being called in. The dogs are quiet, I hear no barking. I'm told they only track my son to the yard. No further. Trying to think, I remember the last time I saw him. He was on the deck in his pool. I had loaded the desk into Mom's truck and kissed her goodbye. I scream at the policemen that they have GOT to find my mother. She is the only person that has been here and has just got to know where he is! I explain that she lives about an hour and a half north of us, and she would travel highway 421 stopping in one of two places for groceries. They issue an "APB" for my mother's truck. As the hunt goes on, I become frantic to find my mother. I KNOW in my heart she is the key. I can't get out of the driveway and the police won't let me out. I call a friend who came faster than the law would have allowed. My husband jumps in her truck with her husband and off they go to find my mother. I'm crying as the sun starts setting low in the sky. I don't feel I can take another breath. Then a horn starts blowing; insistently it blows as the vehicle gets closer. My mother's little Nissan! She stops in the middle of the road for lack of any other spot to stop and jumps out with my baby in her arms. As I hold him tightly to me and cry yet more tears, this time of relief, I ask him why? how? My three year old son wanted to go home with MawMaw. Barefooted and wearing only a little pair of wet cotton shorts, he climbed into the tiny little cabinet of the computer desk. The one meant for the cpu. He hid in there as Mom's truck traveled down the highway and into Walmart. He stayed inside the desk for two hours or more as my mother meandered through the store. He had cracked the door for air, or to see out as she came out of the store and she saw him. Mother was so distraught that she could not remember our phone number. In her dismay, the only thing she knew to do was to get him home as fast as she could. Before I could have my son apologise to the policemen, the cars had already started dissapearing almost as magically as they had appeared. In his little boy voice, I remember him telling the policeman that he was sorry he hid in MawMaw's truck, and that he would never do it again. It didnt' occur to me at the time how much had gone "right" that day. How he wasn't hurt going down the highway in the bed of that truck. How he didn't get scared and go to find MawMaw in the store, where no one would have known he was. How he wasn't taken from the bed of that truck by any passerby that wanted my baby. I still believe that I should have been more observant. It only takes a minute. It only took a minute. Yes, I'm blessed.