WE were enjoying a historical day at The Forks. My non-verbal, nearly three-year-old son was running small laps around our stroller as we sat on the grassy steps by the water.
Suddenly, the muskets fired, and he darted up the steps. We ran after him, but he was gone into the crowd.
I took my eldest daughter with me and put the younger ones in care of one of the historical actors.
We didn’t even know what direction to go. I was so afraid he’d run back down and go close to the river. I asked security to call the police, but they had some confusion on the policy. We asked spectators to look. We stopped the band to announce our desperate plea.
As 20 minutes went by, we were spent, emotionally. A bilingual couple took charge. They helped us look and demanded security call the police.
One of the historical soldiers found our son hiding under a chair in an abandoned patio restaurant close to where we were sitting when he ran off.
I wish I caught the names of the couple who helped us and those who found him and kept our other children safe. One motherly lady dressed in historical costume held my eldest as she sobbed in her arms.
The police came swiftly. The best news of my life was hearing our son was found alive and well.
We fell in a heap, hugging him and sobbing openly. Many fellow Winnipeggers patted our backs to say they were glad he was found. That day showed us once again the bond of fellow man to work together and rejoice together. Shared sorrow is sorrow halved. Shared joy is double joy.
— the Sawicki family