When I Got Lost

It was a bright Sunday morning, and the city was buzzing with excitement. The annual spring festival had finally arrived, and my family had planned a day at the city fair. I was just ten years old, curious and full of energy, ready to explore every colorful corner of the fairgrounds. My parents held my little sister’s hand while I walked a step ahead, fascinated by the sounds of laughter, music, and the sweet smell of cotton candy in the air.

The fair was a huge open space filled with stalls, games, rides, and people from all around the city. My eyes sparkled as I saw clowns juggling pins, kids riding horses, and a huge Ferris wheel towering in the distance. My parents told me to stay close, but in my excitement, I wandered off, lured by a puppet show happening a few stalls away.

The puppets danced and talked, and I stood there laughing, clapping my hands, forgetting everything else. When the show ended, I turned around, and to my horror, I couldn't see my parents anywhere. I spun around, scanning the crowd — hundreds of faces, but none familiar. My heart began to pound, and my hands turned cold. I had gotten lost.

Panic gripped me. I tried calling out, “Ammi! Abbu!” but the noise of the fair drowned my voice. I walked around, hoping to spot their faces. I even tried retracing my steps, but everything looked different now. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I wiped them away. I didn’t want anyone to see me cry.

As I wandered, I remembered what my mother had told me once: “If you ever get lost, don’t run. Stay in one place or go to someone in uniform.” With that in mind, I walked toward the security booth near the entrance. But with so many people around, I wasn’t sure where it was anymore.

Then I saw a kind-looking lady selling balloons. She noticed the fear on my face and asked gently, “Are you lost, beta?” I nodded. She offered me a seat near her stall and gave me a glass of water. She didn’t ask many questions, just smiled and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll find your parents soon.”

She called over a nearby policeman, and I told him my parents’ names and what they were wearing. He nodded and spoke into his walkie-talkie. Then he led me to the main control tent where announcements were being made.

A few minutes later, I heard my name being called over the loudspeaker: “Attention! A boy named Amir Hamza is looking for his parents. Please come to the control tent near the central gate.” My name echoed through the fairgrounds. I felt a mix of hope and nervousness. Would they hear it? Would they come?

Time seemed to crawl. I sat there quietly, trying to be brave. The kind policeman offered me a biscuit and told me stories of other children who had gotten lost and found. It helped, just a little.

Then suddenly, I heard a familiar voice shouting, “Hamza!” It was my father! He rushed into the tent with my mother and sister right behind. My mother hugged me tightly, tears running down her cheeks. “We were so worried!” she cried. My father patted my head and said, “You were very brave, son.”

The relief I felt at that moment was greater than anything I had ever known. I had never thought that getting lost could be so terrifying. But I also realized how helpful and kind people could be. The balloon seller, the policeman, and the control room staff had all made me feel safe.

As we walked back through the fair, this time holding my parents’ hands tightly, the bright colors and loud sounds didn’t seem so exciting anymore. I was just happy to be with my family.

That night, as we sat at the dinner table, I shared my little adventure with my cousins who had joined us later. They listened wide-eyed as I described how I got lost and found. My mother hugged me again and reminded me, “Always stay close and pay attention. But also remember, there are good people in the world who will help when you need it.”

I nodded. That day, I not only learned the importance of being careful in a crowd but also about courage and trust. It became a story I would never forget — the day I got lost and found my way back with the help of strangers and the love of my family.