Lost

I knew a girl.

She was gentle with a contagious laugh. She would sit on the street corner selling junk off a blanket. She called me nearly everyday last term. She never seemed upset though her fingers were always swollen and red from hard work. She stressed my Tibetan langauge ability to the breaking point consistenly enough for it to have been her job. She liked sweet tea. Her name was Purbu.

I haven't heard from her in over six months.

Today I walked slowly, nearly drowsy, back from a quickly slurrped bowl of noodles. The sun beat down with its totally uncharacteristic for the season heat. The old woman who possess the keys for nearly every room in our school ran out from the small gate house calling my name. In quick Tibetan she urgently relayed some information to me which I caught none of, all the while grasping my hand the way one would if that hand was their last hope. She paused, sighed, dropped my hand in frustration, surely noting my total lack of comprehension, and slowly walked back to the small house.

I followed her.

She just stared at me. Then she caught the sight of a man a good ways in the distance and started yelling and waving at him to hurry. He arrived at our gathering speaking a quick and breathless Tibetan which I could also not understand. But I could tell by the man's frantic eyes that something was terribly terribly wrong. Finally, in near desperation he reached into his soiled jacket pocket and took out a crinkled picture and forced himself to say slowly: Have you seen Purbu? Where is Purbu? I am her brother, I know you are her friend.

The picture brought tears to my eyes because it had been such a long time since I had seen her and though obviously taken ages ago it was still her, her same chubby smiling face, her same non-imposing posture, Purbu.

I explained that I hadn't seen her for six months, I explained that she didn't have a phone and hadn't called me, I explained where her room was just up the street. Her brother nodded. I know I know he muttered but she is lost. 

Lost.


If she calls you, you must call me he demanded before he rattled off a his phone number so quick in Chinese I was shocked to have gotten even half of the number right before he corrected it, shaky fingers and all.

He then dashed away in search of his little sister leaving me in the blistering sun, open mouthed, damp eyed, and shivering, to take it all in.

I have come to seek and save the Lost... I heard a whisper say...

Purbu is Lost.
But one day, may she be Found.