HIDING AT THE MALL
“Jerry,
this is a really neat hiding place. Mama
will never find us in here!” “But,
Steve, she told us not to wander off and to stay in sight.” “Yeah, but she is not even watching us. Let’s play a joke on her and scare her good?!”
We kept
peeping out between the dresses on the circular display rack. Mama kept shopping away, slowly moving from
rack to rack, until we could no longer see her.
Maybe some the other customers thought the two little boys, giggling
behind the outfits, were cute? Others
likely thought we needed a spanking?
“Steve,
do you see Mama?” “No, but she hasn’t
noticed yet that we are gone!” “Maybe we
should look for her?” “No, she will find
us.”
“Attention,
Sears customers,” blared the P.A. speaker.
“There is smoke in the Tool Department; everyone please leave the store quietly
and safely and orderly; walk; do not run; do not panic…” Next, it was a regular stampede of panicked,
screaming shoppers! The crowd was
mobbing at the exits, pushing, shoving, screaming. And, thick smoke was filling the store.
Across
the store I heard, “Jerry! Steve! Where are you…?” Steve was crying. I was frozen in fear. We couldn’t see through the smoke. And her pleading voice was disappearing. Mostly all we could hear was everyone else
screaming – mothers, children…
About
that time, I woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard, but suffocating. I sat on the edge of the bed trying to stop
the spinning room.
“Father,
it is so noisy and hazy here, that too often I feel alone and lost. The chatter is confusing. Disorienting and disturbing is the hellacious
din. Above the thunderous roar of this
crowd, come to me in your still, small voice.
Keep me close to you. Hold my
hand. Let me see your smile.”
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