My 6-year-old son went to Disney with my parents and sister. My phone rang. "This is Disney staff. Your child is at Lost & Found." Shaking, my son said, "Mom. They left me and went home." I called my mother. She laughed. "Oh really? Didn't notice!" My sister chuckled. "My kids never get lost." They had no idea what was coming...

One Year Later

The morning sun broke over the spires of Cinderella Castle, casting a golden glow across the paved streets of Main Street, U.S.A.

The air was filled with the smell of fresh waffle cones, popcorn, and music floating from the hidden speakers in the flowerbeds.

Elliot was running ahead of me, wearing a bright red Mickey Mouse hat with his name embroidered in gold thread across the back. He held a giant bubble wand in one hand, sending a trail of shimmering iridescent spheres into the warm morning air.

He stopped, turned around, and waited for me to catch up.

"Mom! Hurry up! The Peter Pan ride is opening!" he shouted, his face lit up with pure, unadulterated joy.

I laughed, taking a sip of my iced coffee as I walked up to him.

I looked at him—taller now, confident, thriving in school, surrounded by real friends, and secure in the absolute knowledge that his mother would never, ever let go of his hand.

We spent the entire day together. We rode the big rides, ate ice cream for lunch, met Mickey Mouse in person, and stayed all the way until the evening fireworks.

As the first burst of bright purple and gold light exploded across the night sky above the castle, Elliot leaned against my side. I wrapped my arm around his small shoulders, pulling him tight against me.

"Mom?" he whispered, looking up at the lights reflected in the sky.

"Yeah, Elliot?"

"This is the best day ever."

"It really is, baby," I whispered back, pressing a kiss into his soft hair.