Day 325: The missing sister

One spring day in the 1993, my parents surprised my siblings and I with a trip to Disney World. It was amazing for us kids and probably very super nerve-wracking for my parents to get us on planes, through huge airports, with our luggage, rent cars, find hotels, and walk around with us in the different parks, although they did it to see the sparkle in our eyes. I find myself overwhelmed when I have to deal with the airport all by myself, and nearly took my mom out when she went with me on a trip and wasn't at the plane at boarding time. (Surprise she was shopping, she thought she had to be there at take-off time lol.)
But I'm sure my dad's heart leapt in his throat when he looked behind him and noticed I was gone. I remember this very moment  I stopped to look up at a Pinocchio mural and when I looked back up in the sea of people, my father and everyone else was gone. Momentarily shocked, I just stood there wondering which direction to go to find them. Or was I supposed to find a worker, a policeman? As I racked my brain to remember, my father walked back, his face broke into a smile, and said, "Come on, girl." He later told me the entire 5 minutes he couldn't find me, that he had the worst feeling in his stomach and was focused on going back and finding me. It was just 5 minutes, but that 5 minutes felt like hours for both of us, until we felt relief.

All this led to one of the most told stories in my family, the story of the missing sister. As a baby, I actually look exactly like I do now, but for 3 or so years in my pre-teen/teenager years, I didn't look anything like that leading my sister to deduce that my father did not find original me, when he found me but someone who looked just like me. Add to this that girl who did not look like original me, was meaner and didn't play dolls and other games with her sister as much, that was definitely not original me.

But one day, REJOICE, original me was returned. There are many, many stories about how I came back and when I came back. Perhaps it when we went back to Disney a few years later and walked past that mural again. Maybe it was in college, when fake me and original me switched back. This part of the story is always changing. My sister will tell you with glee how you didn't like fake me and was so glad to have original me back. She always knew even though others couldn't tell that something was different and all you wanted was her sister back.