Missing child

I was reading the report on Keith Bennett, the little boy murdered by the Moors murderers forty five years ago. Greater Manchester Police have officially called off the search. His mother just wants to know where the body lies in order to give him a proper burial.

As I crept out of the house this morning, leaving three sleeping children, it never occurred to me that I wouldn't be seeing them all again this evening. I obviously don't know for certain that this will be the case but neither does it really enter my consciousness that it won't. Perhaps it should and more often. Perhaps we do take life, if not our own children far too much for granted?