Tom was my best friend when I was a kid. We’d bonded over a deep obsession of Jurassic Park and our subsequent passion for Paleontology.
We used to spend every weekend out in the woods excavating the forest floor for dinosaur bones.
But one day our parents wouldn’t let us go. We heard the adults whisper about another body being found "after all these years”.
The whispers scared us and we agreed to play in the backyard instead.
That was the day we finally hit pay dirt.
After a year and a half of looking we had finally found our first section of dinosaur skeleton – and in my backyard no less! We hurried inside to tell our parents but only my father was home.
He was excited and agreed to take us to the university the next afternoon to present our findings.
But we never went because Tom never made it home from school the next day.
I was devastated and when we moved out of state several months later I forgot entirely about the dinosaur bones in the back yard.
This morning my daughter came home from a weekend with grandma and grandpa. She said she hadn’t been allowed to go outside because of some missing kids in the area.
And for the first time since I was nine I thought about the bones Tom and I found. And I wondered…