narratively | W Tang
For over four months, I’ve waited at home for some word of my child. I’ve talked to kids on the streets of our own downtown, passed out pictures of her, looked at listings of runaways on the Internet, e-mailed youth centers in towns I’ve heard attract these teen-agers, who call themselves “travelers”: Seattle, Portland, Los Angeles, Tucson, Austin. Authorities I’ve turned to have answered with only a shrug. There is no office, no phone number, no agency for parents to turn to when their children run away.