I had no idea where he was. It was late. He had no intention of coming back.  He left me.  He ran away, sneaky little guy. He’s 11 and gone.  He thought he had us all fooled and he thought could get away from his life.  I know that feeling, wanting to run, to get away from my life. 

I understand what he feels. He is clever and he did get away for a little bit.  I do hope he learns as I have, that you don’t get to run away from your life because you are always with yourself no matter where your feet take you. 

It was now 9 pm. Rhys hadn’t come home from a youth activity that should have ended around 8 or 8:30.  Sometimes he will stay longer or go home with a friend, so it’s not out of the ordinary yet, but I had that feeling.  The feeling that something was off. 

That feeling started at 8, but then it was still too early for anything to be wrong, at least on the outside. Just like on the night his dad left, I knew it.  I felt it.  It was not good.  I just didn’t know how bad it was yet.  

I had to assure myself that my son was home. I hadn’t heard him come in.  I knew he was mad at me, so it would make sense that he’d sneak in and wouldn’t want to be around me when he got home. I went down the stairs to his room, slowly approaching his door.

I was praying I’d see him in his favorite spot, pouting; hoping I’d come down to see him. That he’d be content in his space until he saw me approach and then he’d turn on the mad face for me to see just how “hurt” he was. But he’d be home, safe.  Safe.  Here.  With me. 

Maybe he’ll let me give him a hug or talk for a few minutes. Then, I could go back to bed and get the sleep I so desperately longed for.  Please be here... I cracked open the door and immediately felt the absence of life and the overwhelming silence of empty and an unfamiliar darkness. 

I knew he wasn’t there.  I pushed the door open to walk in and looked around, still hoping I was wrong, knowing I was not.  My eyes hastily combed the room and then went to his bed where he should have been. Then I saw it, that’s where the note was. 

Addressed to me… and in the silence of his absence, I had already begun to panic as I read the “Dear Mom.”

Dear Mom

I love you and all but when you took $140 of mine that pissed the ‘f***’ out of me and I can’t stand to live here anymore so 1 less shit to take care of…

Ahhhhh I thought… yeah, ok.  Here we go, he’s purposely gone and I don’t know where. I immediately thought, “I need to call the police.” A thought I don’t think when I know they’re gone and also know they’ll be back. A thought I remembered the night his dad left.  

No… please no.  I don’t want to call. If I do make that call this is all real, again.  I didn’t want to, just like I didn’t when I called the police to find Grant.  I resisted.  I didn’t want to.  It’s so hard.  I don’t want to reach out for help.  I want to be fine.  I don’t want to need help. 

I need help.  I need to reach out.  I’m not fine. I indulged my resistance long enough to check his usual hiding spots, knowing I wouldn’t find him but needing to know again that I was right. I called. The entire County police force was called out to find my 11 year old son and even with all of them, it took hours. 

We checked the cameras here at home and confirmed that he’d left at 7:47.  He was on the one-wheel, Grant’s one-wheel.  He had a backpack, packed full.  He had a tent, a sleeping bag and supplies.  Off he went.  Next? Which direction? North. We began to search that direction.

I stayed up and waited.  The clues began to come in.  A restaurant called the police, “I’m not sure if there is anything here but I wanted to report a young boy came in. It was a little odd.  He was alone, young and it’s late. He seemed packed for a trip.” 

What did he look like?  They described the boy. The description was that he looked like Rhys. It was him.   It was now nearly midnight.  They found him.  He had set up a tent behind a McDonalds.  He’d planned to stay there till he ran out of food. 

He was then planning to hunt for food in the parking lot.   Yeah.  Well, he’d thought it through and definitely had no plans to return home.  The officer who found him was impressed with the tent setup. The officer said Rhys set up a better tent than he could have.

He said he'd take this kid camping any day.  He is an ingenuous kid.  He is resourceful, strong, smart and very motivated.  He’s amazing in his capabilities.  He’s a lot like his dad. I was relieved he was found.  He was about 10 min away by car.  How had he gotten so far?

That by itself was impressive and very disturbing.  He was on his way home now.  My baby was coming back.  Yet I still felt a sense of forlorn along with my relief.  A forlorn that said, this is far from over and neither of you can run away from what’s next.   

When Rhys walked through the door, the look on his face was similar to the letter he left me.  His eyes dim and his face angry.  His dark eyes looked at me with a menacing turn of his lips. It wasn’t quite a smile, but more of a smirk that said, you may have one the battle, but the war is far from over. 

I know buddy,  I thought.   As if by bringing him home, I’d ruined all his plans.  Him running away was more than just a punishment towards me.  It was his pain too.  The pain in a place I couldn’t quite reach and he wouldn’t yet let me see.  I felt his heart, it was dark. 

Mine broke once more, again.  It all felt so destroying.  What was I doing?  How can I help him?  This is my life.  Here’s where I’m at.  My son screamed at me to get away from him and swore at me as I tried to tuck him into bed.  I finally got back to my bed around 2 am. 

My bed was the only place I wanted to be all night. And now I was so riled up I wasn’t sure if I’d ever know what a peaceful sleep felt like, that I could trust my life to let me into that space.  I felt more exhausted than I thought was possible. 

I had to be up at 7 to get the younger kids ready for school and that was now only 4 hours away.  It felt like the exhaustion would never end. This time, it was also full of sadness, regret and even more grief for my baby and how he felt. If I could let myself sleep, I’d have till morning with the knowledge that my son is home, safe and tucked away in bed.

As mad at me as he is, he is home. He’s here with what’s left of our family and that is where he belongs. That was not the outcome when we found his dad.  He was found in a place where I would not again be able to see or talk to him. For this, that Rhys is here, I am thankful. With this knowledge I can rest, even if not for long enough.