Almost Lost by Beatrice Sparks

my face as though it were gently wiping away my tears, and when Iopened my eyes a sweet, bright little sunbeam was winding its way down through the leaves, caressing my face. Did it love me? Did one single little sunbeam in the whole world care about me, want to warm me and cheer me and lighten my life? I smiled and talked to her for a while as she playfully flitted back and forth in a radius of two or three inches but always coming back to me . She cared! That was enough! I had Ricardo and the sunbeam, and had it really been my mom? I fell asleep.
    â€œWhen I woke up sunset had turned the world to orange. The leaves, the stalks, the sky, even my hand when I held it up was tinted with orange. I heard something rustling through the weeds and my heart almost stopped. What if it were a…a…Bears and lions and tigers and the driver and other unrealistic things flooded through my mind. Then I heard something whimpering and saw the head of a tiny orange-colored poodle. At first he was apprehensive, then he came over and gently licked my face. His tongue felt moist and sandpapery on my cheek and I heard myself giggling. This was a happy day. A sunbeam and a little orange dog loved me…and…maybe Mom…
    â€œA soft whistle and an even softer voice flittered over us. ‘Come here, Pumpkin.’ Reluctantly, the little creature backed away. In a couple of minutes I could hear him whining and coming back in my direction. The soft voice was coming along with him into my broken world. ‘Pumpkin, Pumpkin.’ Asking the little dog where he was taking her, what he had found. A man’s voice behind the woman’s voice sounded not so pleased. ‘It’s probably just some old dead rabbit or squirrel or something,’ he grumbled.
    â€œThe woman was more concerned and broke herway through the weeds, talking gently to the dog and telling him to be careful. When she saw me she looked like she wanted to shriek, but she didn’t. She knelt down beside me and cradled my head in her soft, grandma kind of hands. ‘You poor, dear child,’ she whispered, ‘whatever happened to you?’ Then she started calling, ‘Karl! Karl, come see what Pumpkin has found this time.’”
    â€œâ€˜Not another kitten for you to adopt, I hope,’ he answered.
    â€œBy the time he got to me, tears were flooding inside me as well as outside. I’d tried to tell myself I wasn’t scared and that I wanted to die and all those dumb things, but deep inside I knew I didn’t, really. I just wanted someone to pull me out of my dark, mucky hole and clean me off and help me become the old me again. I clung to the woman’s hand like she was my only lifeline, and I guess she was.
    â€œAfter a little while, Grandma Maizy—she asked me to call her that, said everyone did—and her husband Karl helped me back to their big, beautiful motor home. It smelled of sweet things and had lots of pretty flowered stuff around. I felt safe.
    â€œGrandma Maizy cleaned me up a little and fed me and pampered me like Grandma Gordon used to do when I was teeny-tiny. I loved it. Pumpkin and Shale, a cat bigger than Pumpkin, curled up beside me and soon, after I’d told my nice, new, pretend relatives about my pretend accidental drive-by shooting and my pretending to not have any family, I fell asleep. The last thing I remembered was the cat curled up by my neck, purring, and Pumpkin nestled by my chest, snoring, along with Grandpa Karl.
    â€œI stayed with Grandma Maizy and Grandpa Karl for a couple of weeks or something. She washed andmedicated and bandaged my wounds, and made me exercise a little more each day and eat right and all the things she had learned about health care over her many years.
    â€œOne day when we drove through a fairly big town, I decided I’d taken advantage enough of them so I borrowed fifty dollars and had them drop me off at the bus station so I could go home.