I must have been about 10 years old.
I got home from school with my sister and our babysitter was there as always. But my little baby brother was not.
I asked her where he was.
Her answer? Someone took him.
I remember feeling horrified. Confused. Terrified. And so very angry.
I called my mom at work but she wasn’t in her office.
I called my dad, but he didn’t answer either.
I searched the house. He wasn’t in his crib. He wasn’t anywhere.
I thought maybe I should call the police. But I was scared. And I wasn’t sure how. This was before 911 was available.
I remember crying in my bedroom. Screaming into my pillows on my bed.
Looking out my window into the backyard, watching our babysitter play ball with my sister.
How could this happen? How can she just be playing back there and not doing something?!!
My Spanish wasn’t the best and I was rehearsing in my head the words I was going to yell at her for losing my baby brother.
And that’s when I remembered.
Mom was taking him to the doctor that day. She must have come home early from work to pick him up.
I ran outside, tears pouring down my face, ready to yell at her.
But I was afraid I’d be in trouble for yelling at the babysitter.
And I was embarrassed for feeling so distraught.
I marched out there and then stopped short.
No one took him. My mom picked him up for a doctor’s appointment. He’s at the doctor!
She just looked at me and laughed.
She thought I knew she was joking. She thought it was funny.
I never trusted her after that.
It wasn’t long before we got a new babysitter.
This is Day 18 in the #PostADayinMay challenge I set for myself. Also known as #BlogEveryDayInMay in the challenge set by Jenni at Story Of My Life. Today’s blog prompt is – Tell a story from your childhood. Dig deep and try to be descriptive about what you remember and how you felt.