The Little Girl On The Road

It was a Sunday afternoon, my parents decided that we were going to church together.

Therefore, my brothers and I were bathed and clothed with some nice clothing. I took the little Holy Bible that my dad had given me the year before, and I held a beautiful purse, gifted by my elegant mom. My handbag matched my clothes and sandals. I assumed that I was pretty, without having any clue of what was going to happen that Sunday.

When we arrived in that church, we sat at one of the beaches that were in the middle. As far as I can remember, my parents always chose a seat somewhere in the middle. Although I didn’t think that much about their idea when I was a child, since my adolescence I have come to realize how interesting their logic was.

When someone goes to church and sit at the last beach you seem to be not too interested in what is happening on stage, but we couldn’t sit at the first rank either. Because we could skip at any time, and if ever this happened, we wanted it to occur as silently as possible.

Fortunately, that particular day we had no emergency, therefore, we waited till the ending.

However, I was distracted from the moment we arrived till the closure.

I was thinking about pretty much everything during the four hours straight spent in this church: the pastor who wore an amazing costume, some people behind me who sang very loudly, my youngest brother who was sleeping on my mom’s lap, other children who were running across the church, the meaning of some songs’ words, my homework, etc.

It was like dreaming eyes open and not having any direction and any purpose at all. I don’t know what kept me vacillating through moments and spaces, because there was no common tread to link one idea to another.

As I was dealing with my overwhelmed brain, I heard a voice that pronounced, “Amen!”. It was the pastor’s voice, who said the last word. After his blessing, everyone was trying to find their way home, so was I.

I automatically climbed down the principal stairway, and quickly split the heavy crowd to find out where my parents were headed. I couldn’t see them, but I saw a toddler on a man’s neck. I thought these two persons were my brother and my dad, then I followed them.

I couldn’t see their face because they were far away from where I was. As they were walking faster than what my little legs could reach, I hustled so hardly that my mind went blurry. I tried to say, “wait for me”, but my tiny voice couldn’t get to where they were. Then I decided that I had to follow them rapidly, even if I could only see their heads.

I went on with this idea in mind, and I feared nothing. As I was following this man, I was thinking at the same time: “Why my father doesn’t even look back to see where I am? Why is he walking with only one of my brothers? Where are my mom and my two other brothers?”

I had no choice, I continued to follow their heads, until something weird happened: they arrived in our neighborhood and continued to walk down. I knew where I lived, then I said, “What’s wrong with my father?”. But I had enough confidence in him. So, I followed him anyway. Then we got to the next neighborhood, but he continued.

I remembered that there was a road to our house in the first neighborhood following ours, but the second one had no link with our house. Then I stopped, I said I would prefer to get home alone then to follow a person whose face I couldn’t see and ended up getting lost somewhere that I didn’t know.

Then I disobeyed my plausible father and headed back to my neighborhood. I prayed that my parents were already home, and that nothing bad happened to them. However, when I arrived the door was closed. I spent some minutes and tried to knock the door, but no one opened for me. It was obvious that nobody was there.

As a strong girl, I decided that I would save my family. Then I headed back to the church. When I arrived, there was still a little crowd. However, as far as my eyes could catch, I saw a woman very similar to my mom on the other side of the road.

I was so happy that I forgot the crowd and tried to reach her. Deep inside something sounded weird because she was not even exiting the church where we were. It seemed that she was coming from the one that was two blocks away from us.

But I didn’t analyze much, because I knew that adults are adults, they can make whatever decisions they want. Perhaps my mom had to see a friend in that church before going home. Who knows?

Thus, I left the church and climbed up to reach her. However, as I was getting near her, the identities were getting clearer. I realized that she was slightly different from my mom, and the boy was a bit taller than my brother. But I didn’t believe my eyes that much, besides I wasn’t going to give up when I was close to reach her.

I went on decisively with a sweet smile on my face, as I saw my victory getting closer to me.

When they were just in front of me, I found no word to express myself. However, they walked past without even watching me. The truth is that she was not my mom, and the boy was not my brother. Then I decided that I lost my parents and couldn’t do anything else but resign. I therefore took the road and went home with no courage.

When I arrived, I sat on a little wall in front of our house, and I started to imagine what would happen if my family really disappeared. What would I do? Would I be sent to an orphanage? What about our house? Would it be closed forever? Would I lose my toys? With whom would I play if my brothers really disappeared?

It was very late. I started to panic, and I cried. However, it was not the end. I decided once again that I had to go back to this church, and this time I would not be distracted, and I would not follow anyone.

Nevertheless, as I was getting up from my seat, I saw a little head and then another bigger head approaching me. My brother was on my father’s neck. My father burst in laugh and said, “where were you?” And I answered, “where were you?”

I explained them what happened, but they were all joking and smiling. I knew that they pretended that they were not afraid to not make me sad. They were looking for me everywhere, that’s why they arrived home so late. However, they only said that they were proud of me because I got home alone.

I knew that I crossed a line by going home before everyone, but I became sure that I knew more than what my parents and I thought I knew (my way home, my parents’ habits, my family member’s silhouettes, the good attitude to maintain towards strangers, etc.). My parents also realized that I was getting more mature by deciding to go home instead of crying in the church, however they didn’t know that many other things happened in the meantime and that getting home was not even my prior preoccupation.

In the end, everyone had their secrets about this event. I still wonder what my parents were doing in the church during hours. Did they follow some little girl and found out that it was not me? Did they make their way home several times, and we never met? Did they panic? Did they cry?