Hair still not grey, oddly

[ailbhe]

Emer was asleep on my bed in the front room. I was sitting up. Mum was in the kitchen making tea. Linnea was playing in the hall. I dozed off, woke when Mum brought the tea, and she asked "Where's Linnea?"

First she checked immediately outside the front door. Nothing. She checked upstairs. Nothing. She checked downstairs, and then she went to run around the block while I started trying to think of people to phone other than the police. I phoned one friend, standing on the doorstep calling and screaming Linnea's name, got an answering machine, and decided to phone the police as soon as I'd checked upstairs again.

She was lying very very still and very very flat under the duvet on Mum's bed. Very, very still and very, very flat.

I touched her to prove she was there, and she giggled. Then I sat down on the floor a little way away and tried to call Mum; luckily, she came home wihout my needing to remember how to operate the phone, so it was ok.

I cried. I cried and cried and cried and cried. Mum may have too; I don't know. Linnea giggled. She did give me a cuddle but I don't think she understands that this was serious.

It could be worse; Mum's comparable experience culminated in finding her baby safely strapped in the buggy. Upside down. In the long grass at the top of a sheer cliff.

Comments

[radegund.livejournal.com]

Whoa. Gosh. Oof. Eek. Scary. Very, very glad she was found safe.

More hugs.

[ailbhe]

I was mildly shaken by the windowsill incident. This was terrifying.