Many young children have been lost at some point in their life. My brother, at the age of about five, got lost at the amusement park. My sister, when she was three, wandered away from my mother in a swimming pool on vacation in Florida. I too, got lost one day when my father and I were at the mall. But I wasn't three years old. I wasn't even five. I was fourteen.
I remember the day very clearly. It was February 13th, overcast, and my father was driving me home from school. Of course, we were not going straight home, we were going to pick up my older brother Langston, who was a sophomore, at his school. This was the usual carpool routine for my family during my freshman year of high school: one of my parents would pick either me or my brother up from our schools, then head to the other sibling's school to pick them up. On this particular day, Langston had a teacher meeting and was not ready to go home yet, so we went to the nearby mall.
It was my idea. I realize now the fallacy in my decision to go to the mall that day, but at the time I honestly thought it was a good idea. After all, I was a high schooler now. I could make my own decisions. I could take the train by myself to school every morning, take whatever elective classes I pleased, and decide who I wanted to be friends with. So on this day, I was going to the Burlington Mall my with my dad to buy a bar of dark chocolate for my mother for Valentine's Day. I entered the mall with my own money, but neglected to bring my cell phone.
This was my first mistake. I then departed from my dad at the mall's atrium and walked into the Godiva store. My smart, independent, decision-making high-school self walked out of Godiva and back to the atrium of the mall only to find that my father was gone. Panic and embarrassment crashed over me like a wave. In moments, I became that kid who had lost her parent in a busy, unfamiliar place, except in an older and more embarrassing form. I quickly found a police officer and cringed as security announced my father's name over a loudspeaker. After calling my dad on the officer's cellphone, I discovered that my dad had gone back to pick up my brother at his school. Simply put, I felt stupid.
My dad was not too happy when he came back to collect me, and I of course was wallowing in the depths of my own shame, but I still believe my incident at the mall that day provides a significant learning experience. Even after my years in high school and college, I am still not fully grown. Despite the many responsibilities that I may have, whether I am in class, at work or taking part in an extracurricular activity, I still make mistakes – and plenty of them. I have learned to grow from the various embarrassments of my daily life and handle each moment as it comes, no matter what dilemma I am met with. I know now that responsibility does not always equal maturity, and although I am proud to say I have not gotten lost in a busy place since that fateful February day, I am definitely prepared should the problem arise.
