The end of August is state fair time, and it’s a huge deal for a lot of people here. I’ve been to the fair exactly once. Danielle and I brought Caleb when he was four years old and she was pregnant with Hollis. After squeezing through crowds of sweating people–many of whom looked to be strangers to sunscreen–and stopping to gobble a deep-fried candy bar, we happened upon a large tent with mesh walls. Inside were said to be thousands of butterflies and some exotic jungle growth. We could hear excited youngsters. Danielle decided to park her pregnant self outside next to the tent’s exit and rehydrate while Caleb and I went through the tunneled entrance and paid for admission. 

The scene within did not disappoint. Saturated color and graceful symmetry bobbed all around us, and the butterflies alighted on our heads and bodies and put us under their spell. The trance couldn’t be broken, even by amped up kids who were far more frenetic than the insects. I stayed with Caleb as his impulses carried us throughout the tent, its gauze walls admitting the afternoon light and the murmur of the crowd outside and the smell of hot dogs rendering their fat. After some time I ambled over to the gift shop corner of the tent, admiring the glass pretties and turning now and then to follow Caleb’s meanders. This place was so unexpected! It was an oasis. It…wait, where did Caleb go ?

I could see about forty kids in the tent but none of them were my son. Okay, he’s in here somewhere. Maybe behind a bush or something, right? Stay cool. I became methodical, looking each child in the face. After noting that he or she was not Caleb, I moved on, sweeping slowly through a scene that no longer seemed enchanting. No sign of him. I had the thought that perhaps I was being way too calm, and that Danielle would suggest a major freakout was in order. Danielle. Right outside the tent’s exit!

At the doorway I asked a young guy if he’d seen a kid go out by himself recently. Nope, sure hadn’t. Blinking into the hard light, I met Danielle, who gave me a confused and somewhat accusatory look. She was alone. “Where’s Caleb?” I explained that I’d lost track of him, that he just wasn’t in there. But he wasn’t with her, either. And he was four years old. “What?! Oh, shit!”

We didn’t draw up a search plan with x’s and o’s on a napkin. She took off running along the tent’s perimeter, scanning the crowd and calling our son’s name in a voice growing more ragged by the second. That tipped me over. I re-entered the tent through the exit to search one more time. My pulse was jacked sky high, and even though my armpits were damn near squirting sweat, I felt chilled. The mash of colors inside the tent made me nauseous. I wondered again if I was acting too deliberately. “Caleb? Caleb?” My voice sounded shaky and weak. The squealing kids and the butterflies paid me no mind and I hated them. Some other parents looked up, recognizing something raw and out of place in this wonder bubble. He wasn’t in here. Not in here. Not fucking in here!

Now I dashed outside again. The crowd was no longer made up of individuals, it was a swarm that had swallowed my son. My only son who I loved to pieces. He was so bright and happy and I’d failed him. Just because I’d been checked out for one little minute. No!

Then they were coming toward me. Both of them. Crying. “Where were you, buddy?” Danielle had found him by the tent entrance. He’d lost sight of me inside amidst the hubbub and had bolted through the entrance tunnel. Once outside, he’d whirled and scanned his limited horizon as the crowd flowed around him. He’d been confused and panicky. Two women had watched with concern and then alarm as a lone man approached and beckoned Caleb to come with him. The man had taken him by the arm. One of the women asked our son, “Is that your dad?”, and the man had spun and melted into the crowd. The ladies comforted Caleb until Danielle found him. Whoa.

The feeling that I had when I thought I’d lost Caleb is nearly indescribable. It was a compound of fear, guilt, anguish, and sorrow. I’ve only felt a comparable emotion at one other time in my life. I’ll bet you can guess when that was. I’ll show you what that was like, too, in a little while. We’ll keep things on the lighter side in my next installment. Until then, enjoy the glory of summer!





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