Where is Kit?

It is 1:32 am!

I’ve spent the last few hours panicking! Kit told me that they would be back home around 5 pm, but he and Jennah have not come home yet.

I started calling his phone at 5:30 pm. There was no answer, but I wasn’t too surprised or worried at the time. He’s a busy boy, but despite that, he’s always good about calling me back so I didn’t think anything of it.

I told myself that any minute now, the bus would arrive at the bus stop, and he would run home beaming to tell us everything.

I wanted to make good on my promise of ice-cream to Jennah, so I had brought out the ice-cream and the waffle cones that way the ice-cream would have softened to make it easier to scoop. Nothing beats ice-cream while being regaled with fun tales of their time at the amusement park.

There’s a difference between softened ice cream and mushy ice cream. I definitely wasn’t aiming for mushy. So when they still hadn’t turned up at 6 pm, I began to contemplate putting the ice-cream back in the freezer. I really wasn’t expecting him to be 30 minute late. I know that doesn’t seem like much of a gap in time, I’ll admit, but after many calls without a call back it started feeling a bit unsettling.

At 6:30 pm, I put the ice-cream back, and sent a text. I think it was my third one. He was late now for sure, and still no reply to my texts or calls!

I started heading to the bus stop to see if I could spot some signs of major traffic.

There was none. No traffic, and still no replies. I stayed right there at the bus stop, and called again and again and again – about 15 times. Still nothing.

I headed back home to wait in case he called the house.

It was 6:45 pm when I walked into the house. Taelor was upstairs so I started to make my way up, but stopped myself. As I descended into an ever so present traumatic stress, there I stood on the steps. I was frozen. I just waited…. I couldn’t think, breathe or move. I was going to wait first, and wait I did.

6:45 turned to 7. 7 to 7:30, then 8. I stood as the sunlight dimmed, giving way to night time. Still nothing! No call. No text. No Kit.

I sent a few more texts and called a few more times. It was at this point that I noticed that the call went straight to voicemail each time. My stomach sank! I felt the taste slowly leave my mouth, and all the strength in my body followed the same exit.

I felt the urgent flow of adrenaline coursing its way through my veins. I was racing with endurance, but at the same time, I felt breathless as the overpowering weigh of despair rested fully on my head and shoulders. I wanted to lay down and stop!

In the midst of feeling lost, I managed to navigate my way up to Kit’s room. Maybe he had left some sort of hint about where they were going. All he had said was that a group of friends were going to the amusement park with their other group of friends, and he could tag along. That is all I knew about where my son went.

His computer was far too complex to understand if there was a clue. Something out of the matrix. “Dammit, Kit!“, I thought to myself in frustration. As I tried to make sense of his computer and scavenge for clues, questions filled my head in a manic rush. “WHY did I not insist on dropping him off myself?”, “I cannot believe this nonsense!”, “Where IS he?”, “I am a bad mother. How could I not know more?”

I didn’t even realize when the tears of shame, guilt, worry and frustration started to cloud my vision. Literally!

Then thought of Taelor in his room next door crossed my mind as more questions came a mile a minute. How would I explain? I didn’t understand it myself. My heart was racing, and each beat resounded in my ear breaking me from my panic trance.

I wiped my eyes, and ran back downstairs. My emotions were not well regulated. Anger came rushing in – anger at myself for not asking more questions…anger at the group he went with for breaking my trust…anger at time for passing…just raw anger.

The anger overwhelmed me to the point of breaking down. So right there, half way down the steps, I broke down and wept!

It was then that I heard what sounded like the squeaky turn of a vehicle that was the size of the bus he had left it. KIT! Kit is home! I ran to the back door to see.

Nothing. It was a false alarm. Whatever had made that noise was long gone, along with a huge chunk of the hope I was fighting desperately to hold onto.

In disbelief, I sat down. With Kit’s number on continuous redial, I sat. And waited. And cried.