“Mom, wheres my Backpack”
I say, looking back at the empty dirty gray trunk
Of my grandparents van
“Mom I can’t find my backpack”
I say again, my voice quivering

Panic begins to sweep through me
Like waves from an ocean
“It should be in the trunk”
My mom says
“It isn’t”
I say, even more panicked

An unnoticed bead of cold sweat drips down my cheek
Where could it be?

I look again
At the empty trunk
Wishing my red and white plaid
Lands End backpack was right there
Begging me to carry it
But it wasn’t

I am no longer hot in the
In the blazing californian sun
But cold with terror
I realize only now, my backpack is still at the airport

The first tear falls
And the second
And the third
And soon they are falling like a river

===================================

Sitting in a chair in my grandparents living room
My eyes still wet
My hands going from my holding my head
to my lap where I twirl them anxiously
Waiting
Waiting
For the phone call from my grandma

My cousin and sister play with legos next to me
“Kyle when will you play with us”
My sister says
“Later”

Waiting
Waiting
Finally the phone rings
My mom picks it up
My Grandma found my backpack!
Relief flows through me