The child had been missing now for almost three days. Searchers had combed the sandy shoreline, the steep root-covered cliffs, and the thick foliage along the ridge line overlooking the ocean from above. All to no avail.
Because of the stiff sea breeze’s constant flow ever-changing sand made it impossible for the dogs to find a scent.
Huddled in a trailer about a quarter mile away at a parking lot, two frantic parents held each other’s hands, fought back tears, and contemplated the gravity of the situation. As storm clouds gathered along the distant horizon forcing the sea into a frothing soup of white caps, things seemed all but lost. Dusk was close at hand and perhaps one final desperate search along the beach could be made before darkness settled in.
Undaunted, the child’s mother made one last hopeful pass along the shore. As she neared a stand of driftwood her eye caught a glimpse of something flapping in the wind beneath a log. Moving closer she recognized the Fourth of July cap her child had last been wearing; red, white, and blue, barely visible in the fading light. She rushed across the sand and a stifled cry caught in her throat. Her sweet precious child looked up from behind the worn weathered stand of wood.
Sweeping her daughter up in her arms, a powerful rush of overwhelming joy swelled from within her core. Two hearts beat together as one. Cheeks, wet with tears, pressed together as though they would never separate again. “Mommy! Oh mommy! I knew you would come!”