So I thought I was going to get fired when Thom called me in and closed the door. Don't know why I thought that, because the story about the hand in Lake Harriet had turned out alright, but these days I am paranoid, and with good reason. More copy editors were let go last week.
"Skeeter," he said. I cringed. "I've got a new assignment for you. You know how the Somali community has grown to about 100,000 people. You know how some of the young men have returned to Somalia never to be seen again."
"Yes," I said.
"Why? Why did they move here and what was it like for them to grow up here? Why did they go back to Somalia? What do their families think about that?"
"Don't know," I said.
"Find out." He stood opened the door to the small conference room headed out.
After my heart returned to its normal pace, I began to think about what he said. Hmmmm another missing persons story. I was getting used to this.
It's Saturday afternoon now. I have made arrangements for Susie to visit my mother and Rebecca is at her friend's house. I don't know where Michael is, and I don't care. I've got an interview with a Somali woman whose son went missing. I've got so many questions for her. Who was her boy? Did she see a change in him? When? Why? How did she get to Minnesota? How many children does she have? Why did this son disappear instead of others? Has she heard from him? Does she still have family in Somalia? What's it like moving to this icy cold Minnesota from a mostly tropical home? This is going to be fun!!