“Did somebody here lose a little girl?”

I heard the man’s voice calling from the opposite side of the house. I dropped the purple sheets and jumped from the top bunk. Within seconds, I was running past the living room as Cinderella’s fairy godmother sang, “Bibidi babidi boo.”

Nichole was missing.

I ran to the side door, the one attached to the garage, and faced an older man wearing a bike helmet.

“Where is she!” I asked

“Did you lose a little girl?”

“Yes, where is she!” I said pushing past him to get out.

“Two blocks down that way.” He responded pointing his finger in the right direction, “Don’t worry, my wife is with her an…”

I did not hear what else he had to say, I was running out the garage headed the direction of the pointed finger. From the distance, I saw her – her dark hair and red dress – looking up at a woman that held her hand.

Lord, she is so small. A car driving by could have missed her and I would have lost my little girl. Thank you, thank you for sending these people to stop her.

She is a runner

I went on my knees before Nichole.

“You do not ever leave the house, you hear me! No! You do not leave the house!”

More than my words, I think Nichole sensed how scared I felt, and she could hear how my voice trembled. Her lower lip came out and she threw her arms at me. I hugged her tight and stood up.

“Thank you” I whispered to the woman.

“We saw a little girl walking, and we thought no little girl should be alone in the street. One more block and you have a busy intersection, so we decided to stop her. Good thing my husband spotted the moving truck and we assumed maybe that was where she came from.”

“Thank you so much” I said again, “You might have just saved my little girl.”

“I asked her name or where she lived, but she wouldn’t talk to me”

“She really doesn’t talk to strangers” I responded, “But even if she did, I am not sure you would have understood her.”

“Does she have Down syndrome?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes she does.”

“Well, we thought so. Actually, that is the main reason we stopped her. A little girl with Down syndrome walking around like that was probably lost.”

I thanked the woman one more time and began walking home. I could not contain the tears as they fell freely on Nichole’s hair.

My biggest fear is losing Nichole. Like many other kids with Down syndrome, she is a wanderer. It is as if there was something inside of her that compels her to go. If a door is open, chances are she will get out and run. She doesn’t understand the dangers of crossing the street, or to watch out for cars, or to stay close to home. A few months before that, she had opened her grandparent’s screen door and I happened to walk by the living room as I saw her  walking in the middle of the street. So I watch her like a hawk. I make sure all doors are locked, or that she cannot open them on her own. Even at parks I stay close to her, there is no guarantee a swing or a slide will keep her close. But today was moving day, and the doors were open wide.

I am thankful for the couple that stopped her two blocks from our house, and so thankful, oh so thankful, that she was kept safe.

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