Let’s keep going, I’m on a roll, I said as I continued to hike inwards on the trail. I got ahead and soon a quiet breeze swept through and past me. I thought of Randy.

Randy, the boy - who’s actually a man of 46, is an autistic person with a mental age of 5, but could pass in looks for a quiet teenager. He cannot speak; he waves his hands or claps them to communicate. He has blondish hair and blue eyes with a red skin condition on his rather longish face. I have seen Randy around town on occasion with the others near where he lives - a centre for the mentally challenged. I miss Randy. So does his mother, terribly – she does not want to find him "face down in the mud". So I call Randy’s name "R- a- n- d- y" in the wind - - no answer. I didn’t really expect one. We can only guess where Randy is. Although it has been said he can fend for himself for some time, it is bad enough when someone goes missing, let alone one like Randy, incapacitated, as he is, an epileptic who is also bipolar. We are told to check our backyards, our garages and sheds, anywhere he might be hiding.

Randy went missing from the centre last Sunday evening when his caregiver went to fetch pajamas for the group as they were getting ready for bed.

If you see Randy, call out his name…. if he responds keep him safe…and tell me…the walker in the woods…

We need to have Randy back in this town…. we need to care for Randy.

I’ll think about Randy, especially when I go walking. He loved walking; he was fascinated by water. I’ll not forget him, nor the many, many people who searched for him all those long, long hours for what seemed like the longest of weeks.

I’ll think about Randy, especially when I go walking. He loved walking; he was fascinated by water. I’ll not forget him, nor the many, many people who searched for him all those long, long hours for what seemed like the longest of weeks.