The Grand Canyon

I think I was 5 or 6, maybe younger maybe older. My family was pretty good at taking us on fun vacations back then. My brother and I were riding our bikes through the campsites one evening. I wasn’t very adept or confident in my bike riding skills yet, unlike my brother. He was always more athletic than me, faster, stronger. There was a moment where a car was coming up behind me, and I was afraid to get hit so I pulled off to the side but had to get off my bike since I couldn’t ride very well yet. I remember the car passing by, and then looking up at my brother who was flying down the hill away from me. I called out to him to wait, to slow down, but he never turned around. I waited, 1 minute…3 minutes…10 minutes…he never came back. I started crying, and walking my bike down the hill alone. It was a big campground, but the individual campsites were pretty spread out, giving people lots’ of privacy, yet making it feel as if I was completely alone. Once I got to the bottom of the hill, I realized that I was also lost. I didn’t know where our campsite was, or how far we had been riding, I was just following my brother. At some point, maybe 20 minutes to an hour later I was walking past a family sitting at a table. The old lady asked me if I was lost, and I cried yes, so she said I could sit with them for awhile. I did. It was an older white family, I vaguely remember what they looked like, white hair, long and raggedy beard, lots of cigarettes and beer all over the place. They were playing cribbage, I didn’t know what that was at the time I just remember they had a wooden board with holes in it, and there were these little red and blue plastic pegs in it along with playing cards. At some point it was getting dark, and I asked if they could help me find my campsite. Luckily she agree’d, but only if I could remember what number my family was at. By some miracle I actually knew the general site number, now that I was calm and not crying my eyes out. Then she took my by the hand, and walked with me back over to where my family was. I don’t remember how long I was gone, it couldn’t have been longer than 45 minutes, but the one thing I will never forget was when we finally walked up to my campsite. Everybody was there, my brother was playing by the campfire, my dad was talking to my uncle and my mom was in the camper or tent. Nobody was looking for me, nor did they even know I was lost. Even worse, there was no huge relief or sudden realization that I had wandered off alone. Nobody cared. That feeling stuck with me for the rest of my life.