phew!!!!!!!!

Thank you holiday shoppers, you nearly gave me a heart attack! As I raced down the highway today it occurred to me that I might not get home at the time I had planned.

Then it occurred to me that I was dreaming if I thought I would get home on time. I panicked. My heart began racing. I could feel the air being sucked out of my lungs like a Dementor's Kiss. Being late meant Ella would be standing at a locked front door when she got off the school bus today.

I was sure I was going to vomit on my lap. I pictured her tears, her loud wailing, her wandering the streets of Beaverton, knocking on doors until some creep lured her inside with candy laced with razor blades.

I pulled up to the house without a sign of Ella nearby. I was 13 minutes late! I unbuckled Miles and stepped into the house to be sure she wasn't inside (did I actually leave the house unlocked?). She wasn't indoors. The front door was locked.

Miles and I raced down the sidewalk to look down the street to where the bus drops her off (was it possible the bus was just as late as I was?). No sign of Ella. I yelled her name in a tone that means business. My volume is up loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear me. No response. (No one even popped their head out their front window blinds! Didn't they realize my world was crumbling apart???)

I race back into the house and grab my phone to call the school and report her missing. And here's where I won't crack a joke--I literally pictured Kyron Horman's face from all the haunting photos of him hanging in grocery stores and street lamps around town. (Would the school call 9-1-1 or would they make me do it?)

I'm sure I'm going to vomit.

My phone vibrates in my hand before I flip it open. I don't recognize the number. (I don't have time to answer this! My daughter's wandering the sex-traffic-crazed streets of Aloha!!!) I hear a woman's voice say simply, "It's Suzie next door. Ella's here. Come on over."

I nearly faint. I whisper "Thank you" and flip the phone shut, grab Miles in my arms and come to her door filled with apologies.

Suzie's first words to me? With a bemused expression she says "She is being SO funny. What a cute little girl!"

Sigh of relief. Blanket of calm lays upon me. Ella's kicked back in the recliner watching Garfield on the Cartoon Network on their plasma flatscreen TV. She's snacking on Rold Gold pretzels and Sunny Delight with a cozy fleece thrown over her lap. She doesn't even make eye contact with me. The cartoon is too important. The snacks are too delicious.

Perhaps I did something right the past couple of years when I've met neighbors (though I neglected to exchange phone numbers--something I remedied today), drilled our cell numbers into Ella's brain, and insisted she never get in a car with someone and only ask a trusted mama for help if she's lost (or in this case left uncared for).

Suzie said she said hi to Ella as she was getting the mail, noticed that our garage wasn't open for Ella to come in as usual and then Ella came knocking asking for help a minute later.

The wailing? The frantic daughter I feared? She didn't shed a tear or even have a change in heart rate.

Thank you, God.