A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

MEREDITH
11 YEARS BEFORE
March
I’ve just stepped outside. The day is expected to be unseasonably
warm, nearing sixty degrees. The morning starts off cold. It’s only
March. There are robins in the trees, making their way back from
their winter homes.
The kids and I are running late. We’re rushing. I glance at the time
on my phone. It’s eight-thirty. I have to get the kids where they need
to be, and make it to my yoga class on the other side of town by nine
o’clock. I’ll never make it.
Cassandra is outside with Piper and Arlo. I see them, heading off
to school. The school is a couple blocks away, the distance short
enough that the school doesn’t provide a bus. We have to walk.
Either that or I have to drive Delilah to school. I never like to drive
because the drop-off line is a nightmare. Some days I drive just
close enough and then let Delilah off, letting her walk the rest of the
way alone. I never feel good about it. She’s only six years old. But
there are other mothers and other children there, and also a crossing
guard. Nothing bad will happen to her with so many people around.
Delilah is street smart; she knows the way to go. She knows better
than to talk to strangers or to be lured in by things like candy or
kittens.
But today I won’t have to do that. I glance up at Cassandra, Piper
and Arlo across the street, heading out of their own home. They look
like something out of a magazine. They’re completely put together
and holding hands as they trot down their stone walkway and to the
sidewalk. They’re a picture-perfect family. Arlo is a toddler, yet he’ll
walk the distance without complaint. No one makes a fuss of holding
hands.
I look to my own children. Today Delilah wears a dress. I combed
her hair and found the elusive part, using a water bottle to tame the