I’ve had this uneasy feeling ever since Emerson was a baby.
Not only was he the boy I’d hoped for, he was also this awesome, easy, & happy little guy.
He ate, he shat, & he slept. And he never kicked up a fuss about much.
I felt like it was really just too good to be true.
With all the shitty things that had happened to the people around me, how could I be so lucky?
My uneasy feeling came from waiting for my luck to run out. And I was sure when whatever was going to happen happened, it would definitely have something to do with Emerson.
Every night when I put him to bed I’d squeeze the crap out of him & whisper in his ear “Goodnight. I love you. And make sure you wake up in the morning.”
When he was a couple of weeks old he slept through the night. Something that would normally have a parent of a newborn dancing on the ceiling. No?
I, on the other hand, stood at his bedroom door dreading what I was going to find on the other side of it.
After I managed to make myself go in there, I found him, wrapped up in exactly the same position I’d left him in 10 hours earlier. The room was still fairly dark which gave his already pasty skin a pale grey/blue appearance, & I couldn’t see or hear him breathing.
But he was breathing.
Not a thing wrong with him.
Just having a great sleep & completely oblivious to the fact that he’d totally freaked out his nut case mother.
That was nearly 3 years ago & we’ve had SO many near-misses since then.
He’s fallen down hill sides head first. More than once.
Pulled a cup of tea onto his face & chest. Luckily it was one of the million cups of tea I made myself & never got to drink, so it was cold when he got to it.
He’s fallen down stairs. Up stairs. Off beds. Off the lounge onto tiles. Into walls. Out of the car (because you can NOT help him). Into the fire pit. Onto the BBQ. Off the trampoline. Off the swing… again, more than once. And the list really does go on & on.
The kid’s Guardian Angels must be exhausted.
He’s gone missing a few couple of times on this trip too.
On the 5 acre property we stayed at in Albany, I finally found him under the tarp, in Pop’s boat…playing with a fishing knife.
In Perth he took off on his scooter, in a pair of undies, at the caravan park we stayed at. He’d headed straight for the pond & was about to go chase the ducks in the water when Laithe found him.
His confidence in the water far exceeds his actual ability.
Took himself off on his bike back at Coronation Beach, where I found him like this…
Then, a couple of days ago, he toddled off again.
It happens SO quickly.
There’s a couple things about Emerson that make him a total danger to himself.
1. He has zero to no fear of being left alone. If I walk off on him because he’s being uncooperative he couldn’t care less. He just finds himself someone to talk to or something to do. No worries. The kid will talk to anyone.
Even when they don’t want to talk to him.
2. There is no such thing as ‘Stranger Danger’ in his world. Where ever we camp, he invites himself into peoples campers to see what’s happening. When Laithe & I introduce ourselves to people, more often than not, they’ll say “Oh, you’re Emerson’s parents are you? Yes, we’ve met him & Georgie & we’ve heard all about your travels…”
3. If you tell him not to touch something he will touch it. Even if he can see that it’s glowing hot, has razor sharp bits, has teeth, or is growling at him.
4. He doesn’t learn from his mistakes. Ever.
“Did that hurt, mate?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to do it again?”
“Yes.”
5. He’s good with directions. If we’ve been there once, he knows which way to go.
It took Georgie 3 weeks to figure out how to get to school here in Onslow.
It took Emerson about 2 days.
He sits in the back telling me “Up that way, Mum. Left here, Mum. Yep.Yep. Up here.”
It’s great that he can do all that but it also means he knows where he’s going & he doesn’t care if you’re not coming too.
So, on Friday afternoon, I checked the kids.
They were out the back at our friends place; Georgie on the swing, Emerson in the dog kennel. Naturally.
Everything looked under control so I went out to tidy the van & wash the dishes before dinner.
It took me about 10 minutes.
While I was out there I kept thinking I could hear him, so I checked outside a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t wandering off up the road.
We’re at the end of a cul-de-sac with paddocks & a couple other houses around us, so I was confident he wasn’t on the road.
Just to check, I went back out the back to see where he was.
Georgie was still on the swing, but no Emerson.
She didn’t know where he was so I started checking the house, the yard, next door’s yard, around the van, & around the front yard.
No Emerson.
I’m not one to panic about these things but I was getting pretty concerned. And, like all good kids, of course he went missing around dusk.
I was running around shouting for him, but no answer.
Laithe was still at work & no one else was home, so I told Georgie to stay put while I ran up the road to our friends place, thinking he might have wandered up there.
I bashed on the door & realised Jack (who we’re staying with) was next door having a drink. I shouted to him that I couldn’t find Emerson, so he jumped on his dirt bike to go have a look for me.
Our friend, Mick, had come to the front door I’d been banging on & I shouted to him the situation as I was running off in a different direction.
He went to do his own search.
So I’m running down the driveway to the hospital (Jack & Sally’s place backs on to the hospital) because that’s the way we go to the beach.
Emerson running down the hospital driveway 2 days earlier…
Shouting for Emerson the whole way.
Looking under the building as I ran.
Looking through the paddock as I ran.
Realising that the dam was not far.
You know how you can have a thousand things go through your head at once?
I’m thinking, “Yep. This is the day I’ve been dreading, for sure. Did he head towards the Fair? Did he wander past the paedophile’s place? Would he have crossed the road. OF COURSE he would have crossed the road, you idiot, there’s trucks on it! What if he’s in the dam! I’ve never given a kid mouth to mouth before. STOP THINKNG LIKE THAT! Jack’s probably found him already. Man, I’ve got a stitch. What if he’s just sitting on the toilet, or something! No, I checked the toilet. Oh, God! Does he even have pants on this afternoon? He’s probably at the beach. Christ it’s getting dark!…”
I’m doing a spastic knees-up run over the long grass towards the dam, still shouting for him, looking for his little foot prints in the mud & hoping I didn’t step on a snake. Some other local men across the dam heard me shouting & offered to go look for him too.
But after no sign of him there, I sprinted off to the beach.
Well, it felt like sprinting but it was probably closer to lumbering by this stage.
No sign of him at the beach AND the fact that I had to run back up a bit of a hill had me really starting to panic.
It was at that point, maybe 20 minutes after he’d disappeared, that Laithe rang me to say Emerson was home & he was okay.
*Queue tears of relief* … as opposed to the tears of fear that I’d already been squirting.
On my way back home I ran into Mick & his family.
He said Emerson had pulled up at his place, happy as Larry, sitting up like Jackie in the back of a shitty old 80 series Landcruiser full of black fellas. (Mick is a black fella).
And if he’d had his camera he would’ve take a picture.
They’d even put a seat belt on him!
Apparently, they’d found him on the side of the road, just outside the Aboriginal community. It’s a couple hundred meters away, down a dirt track off the cul-de-sac & across the main road into town.
From where we are staying, we can hear the loud music that often plays all night there… & the occasional fights.
Anyway, they’d picked him up & taken him to the 2 families in town that have red headed kids to see if he was theirs. After that, they brought him to Mick’s, because “Mick knows white fellas”.
When I got home I was still crying & Emerson bounced up like nothing had happened (as they do).
“Mum, why you twying? Don’t twy. You my beau-ful Mum. I your beau-ful boy.”
He told me he’d headed down the track looking for Jack because that’s where he rides his dirt bike.
“I so sowwy I fwightened you, Mum.”
Pass me the Valium, PLEASE!
That was 2 days ago & I still feel exhausted.
I’ve barely been able to get to sleep at night.
And because I haven’t moved my fat arse any further than from the couch to the fridge (OR four feet) for the last 2 months, my hips & legs are killing me after all that exercise.
I’ve tattooed my number to Emerson’s forehead, & can somebody put a frigin’ bell on him?
I’m going to print off some ‘Missing Person’ flyers while we’re here too.
For next time.
Beau-ful boy indeed.
