Lost in Hong Kong

Parenting is hard.  From those very first sleepless nights to the moment when you discover that your child knows more than you (on any subject – but most likely technology), the act of parenting can make one feel like a piece of paper that has been crumpled up and smoothed back out. Yes, it is a joyful and meaningful experience, but it is also exhausting and terrifying. As our three children have entered the teen/tween phase of life, I have been struck by just how delicate a balance one must strike between keeping the children safe (because let’s be honest, they aren’t done growing and developing yet… their frontal lobes are clearly not fully formed!), and having some faith that the lessons we’ve already taught them have actually sunk in (or that they will learn from the mistakes we aren’t too scared to let them make!).  Our current travels have brought this delicate balance into high definition for me and made me realize that I’d really like some form of parenting compass to help me know if I’m even on the right track.

Take for example our experiences riding the subway.  The metro system in Hong Kong is phenomenal; it is clean, easy to navigate, and safe.  It is a great place for us to practice having faith that our kids have learned a few things in life thus far.  At the same time, the metro is extremely crowded making it a somewhat scary place for the worried parent who can’t see her child in the crowd.  The short video clip below shows how quickly the metro can go from a serene ride to a chaotic one:

This past weekend we set off on the metro in search of a Buddhist garden and nunnery that had been recommended to us.  This expedition required a fairly lengthy subway ride with two transfers, including the long, dreaded walk from the blue line to the green line at Kowloon Tong station.  I say “dreaded walk” because the children can’t stand it when we have to walk behind someone whose moves are unpredictable because her eyes are glued to her device screen or someone who is moving at a snail’s pace because he is escorting his elderly mother through the long subway halls.  In order to avoid these frustrations, our kids often dart in and out of the human traffic, rushing ahead of us only to wait at a turn or escalator and then rush off again. 

It was in one of these moments of frustration that Maggie darted ahead of us.  James looked over his shoulder at me, rolled his eyes (as though he is immune to the kind of frustration Maggie was experiencing), and took off after Maggie.  We got to the final escalator leading down to the train platform and didn’t see Maggie or James.  So we descended, trusting that they knew to wait for us on the platform.  When we got all the way down we saw a train was just pulling out of the station; we found Maggie on the platform, but not James.  So we waited, watching the escalator, assuming James had gotten stuck in a snarl of traffic at the top and would be down in just a minute. 

We waited, and we waited.  No James.  Grace said, “I bet he got on that train that was leaving as we came down the escalator.”

“Why would he get on a train with out us? He knows better than that,” said Greg.

“Although, he was chasing after Maggie.  Maybe he thought she had gotten on the train and didn’t want her to be riding off alone,” I offered.

“I never saw him down here,” said Mags.

“This is exactly why we tell you guys to stick together!” I blurted.

“So what should we do?” Grace asked.

“He knows we are going to Diamond Hill station, so let’s go there and see if we can find him.  We have absolutely no way of communicating with him so this is the best we can do,” sighed Greg. “And we’re sticking together!”

“OK, but if we get there and he isn’t there, I’m coming back to look for him,” I said. “I just have this nagging sensation that he never came down the escalator.”

So we jumped on the next train and tried not to panic as we rode the 12 minutes to Diamond Hill.  James was not in the Diamond Hill station.  It was both a shock and not surprising at all.  Of course he wouldn’t get on a train without us.  But if he didn’t come ahead thinking he was keeping Maggie safe, then where was he?  How did we miss him in the Kowloon Tong station?  And more importantly, without a way to communicate with him, how on earth were we ever going to find him?  I was not worried about his safety.  As I said earlier, the Hong Kong metro system is clean and organized and safe.  What I was really worried about was James’ mental state.  Would he panic?  Would he be so worried about us getting mad at him that he would make a bad decision?

Greg and the girls agreed to stay at the Diamond Hill station in case James showed up.  I got back on the train and rode the excruciating 12 minutes back to Kowloon Tong.  When I arrived, I walked up and down the tracks, slowly scanning the crowd to see if James was anywhere on the platform.  After two trips from end to end, I was fairly certain he was not on the platform.  I went up the escalator hoping to see him waiting at the top, but I was sorely disappointed.  Not only did I not see James, but the crowd had thinned so that I could clearly see that he was nowhere around.  I paused, lowering my head in a moment of utter panic.  A wave of nausea spilled over me as I acknowledged that my son was lost in this enormous city, and I had no way to communicate with him. 

As the wave passed, I looked up and discovered that there were other escalators delivering travelers to this level from the platform.  I made my way quickly to the next escalator, pushing against the flow of traffic.  Just past the escalator, standing at a kiosk of sorts, was James.  I called his name, but he didn’t hear me.  I called out again as I rushed toward him. He looked up, and I could see the fear in his eyes fade away.  “Where were you??” he moaned.  I gathered him in my arms and just held him, not really sure how to answer his question.

Where was I?  Lost in my own doubts. Doubting my own parenting ability to keep him safe.  Doubting that he knew how to handle such a difficult situation.  Doubting that I’d ever taught him anything valuable.

Where was he? Standing at an internet kiosk (that I didn’t even know existed) sending me emails so I’d know where to look for him.  Creating a Facebook account so he could message my phone and get my attention.  Waiting at the last place I’d seen him (give or take 10 meters), just like we’ve taught the kids and the group (“If you get separated from the group, just go back to the last place you remember being with the group, and we’ll come find you.”). He might have been the one who was not with the family, but he was definitely NOT the one who was lost.

As James and I made our way back down to the platform so we could join Greg and the girls at Diamond Hill, he asked me if I had gotten his emails.  I looked at my phone and said, “I don’t have my data turned on.”

“So Mom, this is probably a good example of a situation when you might want to turn your data on. You know, so you can find your son?”

So maybe I am lost. But if my kids can show me the way, that’s something. Isn’t it?