The Worst Day

We were swimming the other day and Ben got in trouble and had to sit out for a while. The whole time he's telling me that this is the worst day of his life and I am ruining his summer by making him sit out (and I thought Alexander was the dramatic one). That got me to thinking what my worst day was (so I could tell Ben and put it into perspective for him). Memories flashed in my head - the day my uncle had his heart attack, the day my grandma died, the day Ian's grandma died, the day my dad broke his back...One memory caught hold and stuck. It was the day I lost Ben.

It was Martin Luther King day 2005 and I had taken all 3 kids to the Phoenix Zoo with a friend of mine and her daughter. The new monkey exhibit had just opened and the kids all loved it. I remember my friend saying, "I can't imagine how you keep track of your kids! You do such a great job!" Oh, the irony! I remember being exhausted when we got home. Physically and mentally. My kids were nagging me to go to grandma's so I thought I might have some peace if we went over there. We were building our house at the time (which is 2 houses down from my mom's house) and I wanted to check on the progress.

When we got to my mom's house I layed on the couch while the boys played inside. Pretty soon Alexander was bored and wanted to go find his cousins outside. I knew they were at our house (the one we were building) so he left to find them. Ben heard what was going on and asked to go too. "They are all at our house" I told him. Off he went. 10 minutes passed and I got up to go check on the boys - leaving Max with my mom. Walking down to the house I couldn't see Ben's bike. He got a new bike for Christmas and took every opportunity to ride it. When I got to the house I saw Alexander, Dallin, Michael and Joe but no Ben. I asked the boys where Ben was and no one seemed to know.

I wasn't too concerned - my parents live in a pretty secluded neighborhood and my kids know not to go past my mom's house. I figured Ben was playing with the neighbor boy (which he often did) and proceeded to talk to my dad and uncle for about 10 minutes before searching for Ben again. I started to call his name. No answer. By this time I am walking around the neighborhood, knocking on doors, asking if anyone has seen Ben. Silence seemed to echo the whole neighborhood. It was like time was standing still. I was feeling more and more frantic when I didn't see his bike anywhere. All sorts of horrible scenarios flashed in my head - none of them with happy endings. By this time everyone was in on the search. My dad was talking to the police and I was literally hyperventilating. The police suggested that we check the house we lived in. Huh? There's no way Ben would ride all the way down Willis Road across Alma School (there was no light at the time) and know the way to our house. But that's exactly what he did. My brother-in-law Brian found him coming back - getting ready to cross Alma School again. When I saw Ben's bike in the back of Brian's car I wept with relief. I can honestly say it was the worst hour and a half of my life!

I remind Ben of this incident and he says, "This is still my worst day!".