The Stories of our Lives

I don’t follow the news much, so I’m not usually aware of most local (and world) news. I do my thing, and that’s fine by me. Today was different. We’ve been sneaking a peek every other hour, trying to see if something new came up. In fact, there’s been hardly any other stories mentionned than the one we were watching for.

Most people from our town will already know what story I’m refering to. For those from afar, the short version: a girl of 9 went missing on Wenesday night – she’d been out around 8pm and never came back home. The news ran like a trail of powder around the city yesterday, and today intensive searches with (I heard) around 200-300 volunteers turned up… nothing. With some evidence suggesting this, they’re now seriously considering a kidnapping. (For updates and other info, I recommend Troisrivieres911.com. There’s a guy there that’s always listening in on the police waves and reporting everything local. That guy’s doing an awesome job right now.)

Frank wanted to go, but there were already two coworkers gone volunteering, and with some other people on vacation, work couldn’t spare him. My parents both went. We used to know the girl’s father. His parents (the girl’s grandparents) were our next door neighbours growing up; I delivered the paper to their house for years. Their son was a couple years older than us; his sister and he would sometimes babysit us – he’s a real nice guy, always a smile on his face back then. I saw him on the news, adding some details to the description of his missing daughter – the colour of the keys she had around her neck. I don’t envy him right now.

The fact that I used to know this guy, and being a mother myself now, I’m terribly hoping they find her alive and well. Every hour that passes deepens the ominous shadows lurking around the event, and a third night has now descended upon our town. We’ll spare a thought for her and we’ll keep watching.

Fingers crossed.