About Face

Hannah was the only thing that shone bright on that overcast morning. In fact, she was the highlight of any type of day. Her hazel eyes glittered, her brown hair glistened, and her smile radiated exuberance, curiosity, and innocence. At two, she had already charmed the entire neighborhood and by four—her age that day—the parents at her pre-K school often marveled at not just her beauty, but her innate kindness. Their remarks always made me smile with maternal pride, though I sometimes felt slighted on behalf of Sydney who, while perhaps more guarded and slightly tomboyish, was equally good-natured and incredibly bright, but did not generate the same praise as her younger sister.

I watched them both that day, weaving between the oaks and elms, sprinting towards the tire swing which was the “safe zone” in this elaborate game of tag with nearly a dozen other children. I sat back on the bench, temporarily mesmerized by the sight of Sydney falling breathlessly across the swing on her stomach, arms and legs flailed out, tongue hanging wildly out the side of her grinning mouth with two teeth currently missing in action, before she gracefully catapulted herself backwards to her feet and began the chase again. That peaceful moment of my child’s life is perhaps my last happy memory.

“Hannah! Come back to base or you’re gonna get caught!” I heard Sydney cry out.

At her sister’s prompting, Hannah forced her tiny legs to run as quickly as possible toward the tire swing. A little boy was catching up to her but she kept running toward base, even after her left shoe came flying off behind her. Sydney, even at nine, was acutely aware of her sister’s popularity and charm. She didn’t seem to resent it, but in fact, it made her ever more protective of Hannah who was gracious to anyone she met. Sydney was never quite so trusting and seemed to feel it was her duty as older sister to ensure Hannah wasn’t overwhelmed by the attention of others and was never far from her. I admired that. I watched as Sydney risked being caught as she ran to the purple lace and Velcro sneaker, grabbed it, and returned flushed and breathless back to the tire swing where Hannah was smiling with pride at her sister.

The rain hadn’t started, but we knew it was coming. It was one of the last decent days to play in the park before autumn’s chill would hit and the game of tag was put on hold until spring. I waved to one of the other moms who was tending a scraped knee as I dug out my phone and glanced at the time: 3:19. I flipped open the phone, paused another moment to glance at my daughters at play, and called Hank.

“Hey, hun, how are my three ladies doin’? Has my little Hannah been crowned Queen of Riverwood Park yet? Has Sydney outraced everyone at tag?”

“Don't you know it!" she chuckled as she glanced upward. "It’s starting to get pretty dark so we’re going to pack up. We’ll be home after a grocery run for dinner. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, just watchin’ my boys get slaughtered. They were up at the half, but man, they’ve lost their mojo this second half.”

“Sorry to hear, babe. Hey, Hank, did you happen to remember to call the--“

“Hun, hold on--get yer ass in gear, O’Brien! This ain’t a jog at the park, run! Ah, hell. He couldn’t even get first down. The team this year is a joke. Sorry, hun, what were you asking?”

It took just a moment. A few ticks of the clock hands for my emotions to experience a drastic, gut-wrenching overhaul. I went from being frustrated at my husband for spending yet another Sunday afternoon on the couch instead of helping out with a few small domestic tasks to feeling my nerves lit with the fire of panic and despair.

Nearly all the kids and their parents had started leaving the park’s playground headed toward their cars, smiling and laughing at the fun afternoon. The leaves of the trees were being gently beaten by the first large raindrops, and I sat on that bench, staring; staring at Sydney, eyes wide, fearful, but yet…determined? At first I thought she was observing the cyclist speeding past on the trail, trying to get home before the downpour came, but he came and went like a bullet and still she stood transfixed. What was she staring at, I wondered? And that’s when I realized what she already had. There was Hannah’s purple, left shoe, but no Hannah.

She was gone.