The Amber Alert was on full tilt tonight during my drive home. The emergency bulletin signs above the freeway described in lights the kidnapping suspect’s car make, model, and license plate number. I hope someone spotted the guy and reported him, and I hope they eventually get the kid back to the parents.

If not, I’ll have a faint feeling of survivor’s guilt. That seems like a strange notion, but I can’t count how many times I could have been taken away as a child. I distinctly remember the feeling of panic when I lost track of my parents at a grocery store. I’d look and look, but I wouldn’t see them, and I’d be certain I’d lost them forever.

There were also many, many times I was left unsupervised by adults. I’d be outside, playing with my cousins, and some strange man would approach me and engage me in meaningless conversation. I remember making paper airplanes or Saran Wrap parachutes for plastic soldiers, and I remember throwing them in the air, watching them fall, and cheering with my cousin Anthony when they landed safely. A man walked by within arm’s distance once, looked down at me with a gentle, admiring smile, and wondered aloud why I was playing at boys’ games, when I should be conducting myself as a pretty little lady should, wearing frilly dresses and playing with tea sets and dolls. Had he the notion to, he could have easily taken me away.

Even as a teen, I was vulnerable. I remember hanging out with my friend Mary at a little-used mall entrance, waiting for our ride to come by. A man and a woman came out as I forlornly hugged a lamp post by the curb. The man took one look at me and asked if I was lost or needed some help. I smiled brightly and said no thank you, we were waiting for our ride. The man’s face softened as he smiled warmly and gently at me and said, while taking me completely aback, “God, you’re sweet.” Had he any evil intentions, he too could have snatched me away, leaving Mary alone by the doors, even as he stunned me with those pretty words.

But I think the closest I ever came to being abducted or attacked was when I’d already reached adulthood. I was 24, and I needed to make a deposit to my checking account before hitting the hay. Close to midnight, it was late, dark, quiet, and altogether still—no cars on the road, no people out and about. When I pulled into the parking lot of my bank, I didn’t bother with a nice, leisurely stop in a marked space; I stopped right in front of the ATM and left the engine running, casually noting the dark and silent car parked in an otherwise empty parking lot.

When I got out and made my way to the ATM, the other car’s lights flickered, and the door opened, letting out a curly-haired man who started making his way towards me. At that time, I wasn’t a regular at the ATM, and I wouldn’t have known how to conduct a transaction in the least amount of time; that man could have been at my side in no time flat had I tried to mess with the machine that night. Lucky for me, I only intended to take the envelope with my deposit and drop it into the deposit slot by the bank doors.

By the time the man came within five feet of me, I was already within reach of my car door and moving to get in. Silly, stupid, trusting me, I hadn’t even suspected him of dark intentions. Thinking he was there to use the ATM, I merely looked up at him, smiled amiably, and greeted him with a “Hi,” even as he looked back at me with surprise, as though he hadn’t expected me to be done with my late night bank business so soon. In fact, he seemed to be at a loss, as though he were thinking, “What do I do now?”

As I drove out of the lot, though, I looked back at him in my rearview mirror, saw that he wasn’t making any move towards the ATM, and shockingly realized just how naïve I’d been only moments before. That guy had been lying in wait for someone to come by and use the ATM. That guy could have easily done harm to me. Me.

So when the Amber Alert goes off, or when there’s news about a missing person, I always think of those times, count my blessings, thank the powers that be for my luck thus far, and hope to remain just as fortunate in the future—knock on wood. So far, I think luck, timing, and providence played a big role in my being here safe, in one piece.

Plus, it helps to be a little paranoid.

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