Scare

I was about to host a webinar meeting with some clients and account executives, when my cell phone started ringing. By the sound of the ringtone, I could tell it was my wife.

I let out an irritated and distracted "hello?"

My wife's voice was never like I've heard it: anguished, panicked, desperate.

"Our son is missing!"

"What?"

"Our son is missing! Mom went out to the backyard to water some plants and when she went back inside he disappeared! She looked everywhere for him! She called out for him and there's been no answer! She can't find him! She left the side screen door open and the side gate unlocked! She thinks he might have wandered out in the street! He's been gone for twenty minutes! You need to call 911! I'm going to Mom's house right now!"

"I'm on my way!"

My co-workers popped their heads over their cubes. Even in my panic, I always marvel how much their actions remind me of prairie dogs or meerkats. "What's wrong Ken?"

Running to the elevator I could only repeat what my wife told me. "My son is missing!"

I dial 911. I only remember the following conversation in bits and pieces. I remember the operator's initial confusion over my cell phone number's area code being different from the one where my son stays with his grandmother. I remember her asking why I'm the one calling if my wife and mother-in-law were more directly involved than I was. I told her that I didn't know; that my mother-in-law really doesn't speak English; that my wife ran out the door and that I'm doing the same. The 911 operator transfered me to the local police station. I give her all relevant information she asked for: the boy's name and age, the mother-in-law's name, address and phone number. The operator told me that she was dispatching an officer to my mother-in-law's house and hung up the phone.

My mind was amazingly clear from the adrenaline rushing through my veins. I was figuring out the possible routes the boy could have taken, but then I stopped when I realized how busy the streets in my mother-in-law's neighborhood were, and all the times I've noticed cars going at least thirty miles above the speed limit. I feared the worst.

Before I knew it, I was pushing my minivan past 95 mph on the 5 north carpool lane, with cell phone glued to my ear. I called my wife again and told her that the police were on their way. My mind was simultaneously calculating the time it would take to my mother-in-law's and wondering if he was somehow still in the house. I dialed 911 again, this time to give them my wife's cell phone number, since she would arrive at the house before I would.

This is part from the whole day I remember most clearly:

"Sir, your son is safe. The officer arrived at your mother-in-law's house and they found him hiding in an closet. He's with your mother-in-law now. Sir? Sir? I need to ask you to please take a deep breath and slow down. Your son is safe. He does not need you to get into a car accident right now."

So I took a deep breath. I slowed down.