Lost and Found

I am lost in a commercial jungle. Oh - I know my way out, but I can't leave until I have spent just the right amount of money on just the right gifts for just the right people. But I am assailed by sound, so loud it makes it difficult to even see let alone remember who I need to buy for. Why do I need a gift anyway - someone's birthday?

No...of course, not that - Christmas! I can hear the piped carols. Two at once in fact - one from the concourse and the other inside the store, a discordant harking and heralding, jingling and jangling and snowing. Is it going to snow? It did when I was young, every year, and we did have sleighs and bells. But not now. Why did it stop, something to do with being in Sydney now? Yes of course that's it - it's all this noise, it's making it so hard to think.

I wander out to the concourse, a small book in my hand. I feel aimless, my sense of purpose gone. A child screams, loud and piercing. Is it being kidnapped? No, a small girl sits in a rattling shopping trolley, red faced, hands clutching at the air. "I want to get out...OUT". I don't blame her.

What to get for Harry? What did I get him last year? Did I forget his birthday? A frisson of panic runs though me, weakening my knees. I clutch my stick. I am overwhelmed by a sense of something missed, something I should have done. It's this place, why is it so loud? I want to go home now. I feel I should be looking out for someone - Harry? Did I come with Harry? The panic seizes me again. No, it was my daughter Larissa, she is beautiful; blonde hair, blue eyes. She is growing up so fast.

I pass a store selling beeping, dinging, flashing toys. A cappuccino machine screeches; china chinks as plates are gathered up. Vinyl bench seats implore me to sit, and I collapse into one at a small white table.

"Hi, what would you like?" asks an impossibly young waitress. I order tea.

A group of women at the next table shout over each other, competing to be the brightest, the funniest. Three boys in school uniform careen past on the concourse, yahooing and laughing at the top of their lungs. They didn't do that in my day. A man speaks loudly, apparently to himself, as he passes. "Not until they sign the contract, don't assume anything until they sign, OK?" he yells.

I reach up a hand, my fingers find the little plastic spot in my ear. One press, and humanity recedes to a gentle hum. I pour tea, stir in milk and sugar meditatively. I have given myself a gift, silence - just for a while. I'll turn the darn thing on again soon.

I have a little book to read. Where did that come from? It is full of inspirational messages and quotes. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life". That's what Harry said, as we left the reception. I was wearing my beautiful mauve suit, three piece, with a pill box hat and little veil. I think he actually said "the rest of our lives". Romantic. He looked like Cary Grant. Calmed, my mind is full of memories - the beach house, days of happiness and sunshine and humidity, the sound of the surf. Not like this racket.

My heart is gripped by sudden tightness and I feel goose bumps and sweat. Why is it so quiet? This is a mall isn't it? Usually these places are so loud.

A man in uniform, a security guard, sits down opposite me. What does he want? My thoughts race. Where are the children, did they wander off? What kind of a mother am I?! The man speaks but I can't hear a word. He whispers into his walkie talkie, or whatever they call them these days.

He reaches over, gently takes the book from my hand and places it on the table beside him. I reach for it, but he shakes his head, covers it with his hand. Whispers again. I glare at him. I want to go home now, but my stick has fallen to the floor. I feel like crying.

A middle aged woman, familiar, appears beside me in a rush, her face a picture of relief. Confused, I wonder for a moment who she is then feel a rush of shame, how could I forget my own daughter? It is the noise in this place, I can't think. She is whispering too - pointing to my ear. My hearing aid! I press the little button and sound rushes in.

"Thank you so much for finding her. I'm so sorry for all the trouble." Larissa is speaking to the guard.

"All part of the service. And I'll take the book back. The manager suspected she wasn't really a thief; was more concerned about her than anything".

They are talking about me. A thief. Me! "Where is Harry", I demand.

Larissa's face has clouded, I see sadness and resignation. I wonder what is wrong. "Come on mum, let's go home".

"Where is Harry?" I have to shout. I shout it again, and again. They are both silent, perhaps they can't hear me above the din.

Larissa sighs, but her voice is gentle. "Dad died ten years ago mum. And now we are going home". She looks like she is about to cry as she holds my stick out to me.

I am shocked, numbed, fancy finding out my husband is dead in a shopping mall! The grief that hits me feels new and old all at the same time. I follow the woman meekly, she seems kind, and as we reach the exit, I start to feel better. She says she is taking me home. I want to go home now.

999 words