We’re on, what we hope is, the final day of rain. Matt decided he’d like to venture out for a walk to witness any new damage from the overnight rains that continued to flood the area. He suited up with his poncho, a garbage bag skirt to cover his shorts since none of our ponchos are long enough, and an umbrella.
For those that don’t know, I have a serious case of the worry disease. In most situations, I uncontrollably visualize the worst possible scenarios. It makes me crazy most of the time but I also find it beneficial since it gives me the comfort of preparation in the event my warped fantasies transpire. After four hours, I was doing my best to repress any visions of Matt caught in a landslide or trapped in the river current. After five hours, I wasn’t the only one worried and seeing as Mike thinks my worrisome thoughts are often ridiculous, that made me even more worried.
We would’ve felt a little more at ease if he had followed some important ground rules that we live by while abroad; always carry your passport, our phone numbers and who to contact in the event of an emergency, and some money. We realized that he left with none of the above. He left with the one thing he thought he needed – smokes.
Seeing as our rental car had already been picked up, we were without wheels to scope the town for any sight of his bright blue poncho and green skirt. It was still daylight so Mike decided to get into his rain gear and see if he could find him. And left me at home to worry about my two guys walking around in who knows what direction, on unstable roads, teetering trees and rivers gushing from areas they don’t belong. I called my sister for some panic control but seeing the worry genes were passed along to both of us (thanks Meme!) her consolation was pretty much a reiteration of my worried anger (but kept me distracted…so thanks Shan).
About a half hour after Mike left, a blue poncho strolled up the driveway and they hadn’t crossed paths. I calmly explained to Matt what he just put us through while my sister did the yelling for me on the phone in the background. I spared him her lecture and opted for guilt as I told him his brother was now searching for him because I wasn’t the only one worried.
As a novice worrier – Mike wasn’t as experienced at managing the various scenarios that fueled his search. To my surprise, he had more things going through his head than me. He shared them with me:
What if he got too close to the river and slipped in? Or if he was standing next to the river and the land gave out? What if he found a hiking trail and got lost? Or got bit by something? What if he met some people that he thought were cool but they weren’t and kidnapped him? What if the police picked him up and he couldn’t explain anything to them (it’s illegal here to walk around without a passport)? What if he passed out since he was gone so long and hadn’t eaten? He could be on the side of the road. Or someone could have brought him to a hospital somewhere. What if he got hit by a landslide? Or debris? What if he walked too far along the beach and got trapped by the tide? What if a car lost control and hit him? He even went so far as to wonder if the locals who said they didn’t see him really had and were holding him hostage somewhere. Welcome to the World of Worry Michael…be careful, it’s very easy to get lost in there.
The real story of Matt’s adventure was less eventful than any of the scenarios, thankfully. He walked down one road and couldn’t pass because the river flooded it so he decided to walk the opposite way into town. The majority of the time lapsed when he saw some locals trying to unclog a drain system under the road that wasn’t allowing water to pass through. He asked if they needed help and they did so he got his hands dirty and helped dig out the drain. From there, he decided to continue his walk into town, going as far as he could go in either direction on the beach. When that wasn’t enough, he strolled down the main road to the next town over. Even though he lost track of time, he realized he had gone pretty far and even admitted that he was afraid we’d be worried about him.
The guilt trip worked and he felt bad that Mike had went looking for him and even contemplated going out again to find him. He was worried he’d be mad but I assured him that the relief would probably outweigh any anger. And I was right. As Mike strolled up the driveway to see if he was home, he smiled, comforted that his brother didn’t have a starring role in any of the scenes in his head.
I clearly explained to Matt the rules of wandering off alone in a foreign country. Hey, as long as he lives under my roof, he needs to follow my rules. Isn’t that how it goes??
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