Lauren

This is Lauren Astley as I remember her. This is a long post. If you want the short story, skip to the break.

Lauren was my practice baby. Of the dozens of children I have cared for over the years, Lauren was always the most special. She was an only child and a doll! Sweet, happy, fun, and absolutely adorable. I started as her sitter when she was about four years old. Maybe a little younger. We played games. We read books. We drew pictures. We indulged in all sorts of things her parents would rather have sheltered her from -- like the Disney princesses. "Draw me all the princesses!" She'd plead. Her parents gritted their teeth (much as I will with Elsie), and rationalized that their babysitter was probably a good enough strong female role model to off-set the psychological damage of a whole army of princesses.

At night, in the summer, Lauren would beg to stay up just a little later as the evening sun shown brightly through her window. I'd placate her with one or two extra silly stories about her kangaroo -- who was always bouncing Lauren off on the most extraordinary adventures. And once or twice, I let her come outside to watch the fireflies twinkling along the edge of the woods.

The Astleys took Sunday night as date night every week for years and years with very few exceptions. I always looked forward to my Sunday evening duties. Lauren was such a joy of a child. Even after I graduated and went off to Smith, passing these weekly games to another worthy sitter, I still tried to see Lauren every summer when I was home. I danced with her at my wedding. Though older, Lauren was still petite, and I swung her around like mad just as I had done in her kitchen for all those years of Sunday nights.

A few weeks ago, Lauren and her dad came to meet Elsie. It had been a long time since my last visit. Lauren had just graduated from high school. She was stunning. Still slight, tan, freckled, blond, with a great big smile. She made a beautiful young woman. She and her father were returning the dollhouse I had given Lauren. They wanted Elsie to have it, complete with all of Lauren's artful redecorating. Lauren was working a job she hated at the mall. I encouraged her to try to find some babysitting instead, and we agreed that, sometime soon, she'd come over and watch Elsie so that my whole family could go out for a nice dinner together. I was thrilled that my little Lauren would be Elsie's babysitter. I knew that Lauren would love Elsie much the way I loved Lauren. Like a little sister.




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This has been a very hard weekend for me. I learned yesterday evening that Lauren had gone missing the previous night. A body turned up in our home town. I couldn't get any further than her name in the news. Lauren Astley, missing. I closed the browser and enlisted the help of friends to read the articles and tell me the news. Here's what I know: Lauren is dead. Murdered. Her boyfriend has been arrested.

This is the hardest news I have ever had to hear. I can't even watch news stories about strangers being murdered or kidnapped, their happy teenage faces shining off of "missing" posters. I have to change the channel. Only this time, it's not a stranger. This time, it's Lauren.

They always say good things about those who die too soon. Well, it's not just words. Lauren was and remains one of the best people I've ever known. She was kind and fun and she shone with a light I was lucky enough to bask in all those years. She brought me and many others so, so much joy. I love her like a sister. I miss her like a sister.