By Charlie Silbur

What if they’re gone? What if they’re dead? Aren’t there bears? My mind was spinning; I struggled to comprehend a scenario I had only seen on the big screen. Without my mother, I knew I had to be strong. You’re about to turn 10, almost a man, I thought to myself. I had to be brave, but I couldn’t; the underlying fear of possibly losing my father and sister forever was too unbearable. All the memories played in my head: going to games with my father and playing in the snow with my sister. I did not know how I would continue my life.

It was a brisk fall morning, the leaves falling off trees, the bees buzzing away their last days before hibernation. I remember the night before, my mother was raving about a hike she was thrilled to embark upon. This was nothing unusual to the other members of my family as we were avid hikers. While the snow hadn’t fallen, the weather was still more frigid than usual. ”Bada-bing bada-boom!” I exclaimed, quite excited about this hike. My father, A.J., continued his normal groaning ways as he had always disliked hiking as well as being more than mildly displeased that my mother insisted that he leave his phone in the car to “experience nature,” a decision that turned out to have extreme implications.

As we entered the trail, I felt immersed in nature, the smell of maple pierced my nose, and the chirps of the birds echoed in the pines. My sister, Leigh, begged to run as she had always hated hikes, but my mother was hesitant to allow it as I was insisting that it was a bad idea that could present dire consequences. My father, seeing my mother vexed by our antics, subbed in and suggested that he run with her to ensure her safety.  My mother, seeing no issues, concurred and allowed my sister to run, and then she was off. The group didn’t know yet, but the intuition of the young boy whose worry seemed to appear as a message directly from God was, in fact, correct. The remainder of the hike was quite nice. After a gruelling battle uphill, my mother and I finally succeeded in our goal of reaching the gorgeous view. As I peered above the hill, I must admit that I was quite flabbergasted. The view was much better than we had anticipated. The panoramic scenery of the valley below, the trees all coloured in red and orange, and the small river flowing in between as if God had purposefully split the hills apart. I should have been distracted from my uneasy feeling, but I could not help but think about experiencing the view with my sister. To this day, I don’t understand what came over me or what exterior forces attempted to take control, but somehow… I knew.

After we concluded the arduous journey, I sprinted to the car, excited to see my father on the wheel and us all rolling back home. The hike lasted around 3 hours, with seemingly never-ending amounts of mosquitoes, so it was understandable why I was done with the place. I was still remarkably vertically challenged at the time and needed to jump up to see the window. After a skip, a hop, and a jump… my father was nowhere to be seen, the car was barren. I despised accepting it, but my gut was right. I hurried over to my mother to alert her and noted that without Dad’s phone, there was a chance that they could be lost. My mother immediately began running back into the hike, shouting both their names, hoping for a response. After around 15 minutes of calling and searching, the rest of the group eventually arrived at the end and finally my mother accepted…there was a problem. Our family friends, heeding my mother’s distress, promptly picked me up, threw me and the other children in the car and sped home. I did not know it at the time, but my mother dialed 911.

 As I arrived back at the cottage, I started asking questions. “What’s my mom doing?”, “ Why can’t I be there?”, “Where are Leigh and Daddy?” Looking back, I appreciate their attempts to comfort me, but in the moment, I simply regarded it as an act of obscuring the answer from me; without knowledge I became paranoid and from my paranoia stemmed extreme anxiety and fear. I was so petrified, I relapsed on my previously beaten nail-biting addiction.  I watched my downloaded movies for about an hour until I received a phone call from my mother. I picked up, excited to hear some good news. She informed me that the police had ATVs looking as well as helicopters equipped with thermal imagery. I did not know what it all meant, but I was relieved that it seemed like people were really looking. For the next bit I became a tad more serene as the thought of the helicopters eased my mind. I expected a call soon after stating that they had been found and were coming home, but unfortunately, after an hour of waiting, no such call arrived. That was my tipping point; I grew distraught and eager to escape this nightmare that consumed my family, and I begged to call my mother but the other parents would not allow it. My mind began to spin, What if they’re gone? What if they’re dead? Aren’t there bears? To their credit, I was successfully distracted for thirty minutes as I learnt to build a fire, a skill I maintain today, until I woefully broke down as my “helpers” were obtaining logs.

It appeared to be all over, my life, my family stripped from me, destined to lose a sister and a father, until the phone rang. “I sprinted towards it, ripped it out of my family friend’s hand, tears streaming down my face. I listened as my mother said two words: “They’re found.”. Just like that a wave of relief overcame my body, it felt as if the weight that had been dragging me down to earth began to shatter. My sister arrived home 15 minutes later in a police car, and my father 30 minutes later as he got to ride a helicopter. I was extremely thankful but could not help but be a smidgen jealous. As they arrived home, I spoke to my father and sister who both seemed unfazed by the situation. My father explained that they were ready to go to sleep and planned the next morning to swim across the lake to another cottage. Fortunately, a couple of sisters were on their way back from a friend’s house and my father was able to track them down with a mix of jumps, handwaves, and screams. Once they were picked up and brought to the house, even though he had heard the helicopters, my father believed they were there for another reason and that the situation was not that serious, and he did not think it was necessary to call to confirm their safety.

This venture could have been easily avoided if my father had brought his phone. However, it was a learning experience. I discovered that through perseverance, I can grit my way through difficult times of mental strain.