You know things, don't you?

"You know things, don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

Becky's grandmother asked me the question but my answer was a lie hidden in a question.
I knew exactly what she meant. I need to tell her the truth, I thought. She is the Great Grandmother of my Grand Son, I had to tell her the truth.

"You know about the spirit world don't you."

"How did you know that?"

"I could just tell."

The knowing was upon her. My happy world of my Grandson's Birthday party began to shatter at that moment. She told me about her visions and I told her about my visions. The sharing of the knowing.

I liked every member of Becky's family. I had fun at my Grandson Denver's birthday party.
I talked too much and made silly jokes that embarrassed my son Mark but all in all it was a wonderful time.

As everyone said their goodbyes at the party I began to feel guilt. A young boy was missing.
I had heard the shots that killed his grandmother and uncle. His father took him from the murder scene. What could I have done? I didn't have a gun. Chicago the murder capital of the USA. I heard those shots. How close was I to the murder scene.

Stay another night with your grandson, I told myself but the endless road was calling to me.

I saw how tired my son was from the party and used it as excuse to leave and not spend the night. I drove off into the night with an impossible mission. I was going to try to find a boy kidnapped my his murderous father. It was insane, mindless, stupid but I was compelled to do it.

The only person that would understand this feeling was Patty and soon I wouldn't even have her to talk about it. I decided to stop at most of the rest stops along the way on my way home.

No wild night visions this time just the pain of lost sleep. I stopped at one rest stop after another, catching a little sleep at each one. Sometimes my rational mind would win out and I would pass by a rest stop and then I would feel over whelming guilt. What was I hoping to find at these rest stops? A connection between the recent past and my present. A place where I could have a black void vision and somehow save a child's life?

I don't know how many rest stops I went to before I gave up hope. The boy was dead.

I crawled in the back of my car at four in the morning and passed out. I fell into the black void and was nothing. Happy that my ego was empty. Happy that I tried. Happy to pay the price of coming back.

I woke to the rumble of big rigs and got back on the road. I felt rational again. I drove south to Missouri. Two days after I got home I saw on the TV that the child was dead. I had heard the gunfire that killed his Grandmother and Uncle. That was my only connection to him.