Picture in a Wallet

When I was 12 a strange man tried to take me.  I’ll never know why he failed, what caused me to run and hide but it probably saved my life.   I was two blocks from home on my way to school one day when a large navy blue sedan pulled up beside me on the right side of the avenue.  The passenger window was down and he spoke to me from the driver’s seat. “Where is James Street?” he asked.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” I replied and began to walk away.  His voice stopped me, “You MUST!” he demanded.  “I really don’t know.” I meekly asserted and glanced down at him before I walked on. 

I was too innocent to know what his hand was doing in his lap, but something must have triggered inside of me to make the fear build. I began to walk away, turned the first corner and quickened my pace.  I kept looking around for another child or adult I knew but there was no one on the street. After a block I thought I was in the clear when I saw his car approaching again.  He slowed as he neared me.  I kept my eyes straight ahead and kept walking. 

The man continued to circle the blocks I was trekking until his vehicle came to a stop across the street from me.  His window was completely open and he said something to me under his breath.  Scared and sounding irritated I yelled, “I can’t hear you.”  He spoke a little louder but again, I could not make out what he was saying.   I walked faster and he spoke loud enough for me to hear; a rude and sexually explicit statement I only half understood.  Panic set in, as his intent became clear and I ran full speed around the corner and hid in the bushes. 

I watched his car go back and forth several times, hoping he would give up.  After a few minutes I emerged from the bushes and rushed to a friend’s house to tell her mother.  Later that day, when the police were interviewing me with my Dad, they told us the man’s tactic of whispering to me from across the street was intended to get me close enough so that he could pull me into the car. 

I had nightmares for weeks. One day the dreams went away and it became a cautionary tale.  I later learnt that the police had requested my presence at a line-up to see if I could identify the man who tried to take me.  My Father knew that he would not be sufficiently punished for an attempt so he refused the line-up, in an effort to protect me from further upset.

I went on with the business of being a kid, grew up and didn’t think much about it in my adult years until right after my Dad died.  When I was going through his wallet I came across a single picture of me at age 12.  I couldn’t understand why my Dad would have that picture from nearly 25 years earlier– until my Mom explained it.  Dad had been terribly shaken that day when I was nearly taken.  Thinking he might never have seen me again, he carried that year’s school picture in his wallet to remind him it could have been the last picture he ever saw of his innocent 12 year-old daughter.

~ it was almost exactly 10 years ago when I found the picture

- miss you Daddy -

 your picture is stamped on my heart forever ~