I paused, looking over the faces of the Missing Children display that plastered the walls of the Clifton Central Post Office. I told myself I was purposefully memorizing the details of each their faces, but could hardly concentrate beyond the wall of haunting smiles. These children, wherever they were, or ceased to be, were captured on this aqua painted brick with smiles stretching across their faces as if their disposition were anything near that expression. They were mostly school photos apart from a few "artist renderings". My chest tightened as I dared picture the daily life of a child who had actually never been photographed. Not one father had ever stood awkwardly behind a camera shouting "Smile, Honey!". Not one mother had ever frantically attempted to catch a snap-shot of her baby yet again turning his bowl of spaghetti over on his head. Then again, I doubted any of these children would want the majority of their lives captured on film...
In this age of instantaneous information it seemed unlikely that so many children could be invisible for so many years, but somehow these particular smiling photos had slipped through the cracks. I often wondered how easily I might slip into the realm of forgotten identity. Would anyone actually notice if I simply...disappeared?
I paid the postage on my package and hurried from the lobby to the bus stop. Yet, my thoughts kept creeping back to the wall of forgotten faces, gathering dust next to the yoga advertisements and weight loss testimonials. There were times, especially when the path I had chosen seemed too difficult to master, that I ran the scenario through my mind. One duffel bag. One bus ticket. No one would ever know...
I looked down, watching as my hands rhythmically prepared dinner. It was as if even my body wouldn't notice if I were on the next bus to who-knows-where. Responsibilities gradually faded back into the forefront of my consciousness as I turned on the oven. I realized I hadn't yet checked my messages. I balanced the phone on my shoulder as I attempted to maneuver both the pan and spatula. "Hello this is Rick the maintenance guy..."
I held my breath, hoping the bathroom drain wasn't leaking through to the ceiling below me again. "I noticed your mailbox was getting a little full, and just wanted to make sure you are doing alright". Stunned, I played the message again. Apart from the fact that I had been too
unaware to check my mail, I was struck that anyone would notice. I often took for granted those people that I saw daily. The maintenance man in my building, the cashier at the pharmacy, the fruit stand man at the market...
If someone I hardly knew would take the time to check up on me, then how much larger would that concern be from my friends and family? No matter how deep I felt myself fall, I knew I would be missed. Pinches of guilt hit my gut as I poured the pan over the strainer. I had actually envied those school photos. I had wanted to get away so badly that I hadn't considered how it would effect anyone else.
I sat down to eat dinner, finally resting not only my legs but my mind. Even if no one else noticed, at least one person already did. I was drifting away, and it took the little pulls to reel me back in. As for the wall of aqua brick, at least one person noticed, and wherever they may be, she hoped those faces would actually smile today, if only for a brief and unprecedented second.
