Eighteen years ago today, my daughters were snatched and taken to Greece.
 
There are certain details I’ll never forget. I remember waving goodbye to them as they climbed into their father’s jeep for their two day visitation.   I remember meeting my friend Julie for lunch that day to celebrate her birthday. I remember feeling slightly guilty for enjoying the much-needed break from the constant demands of single motherhood, not realizing that this break would last just over two long years.
 
March 13, 1994 is one of my life’s uglier anniversaries.
 
But there is much about the next many months and years that are important to remember. Important enough that I’ve written them down so that our history will not be erased.
I remember the support from my friends, my coworkers, and the Anchorage community at large. The tireless work of local attorneys Michael Schneider and James Gorton. And I remember the trips to Greece which led to new and lasting friendships, and to finding my daughters. Only to be arrested.
International parental child abduction is on the rise. Less than half of the parents whose children are taken from home countries ever see them again.
 
But thanks to the help of so many, I became one of the luckier ones.
So what’s the anniversary I do celebrate?
 
May 24, 1996. The day the girls and I returned home to Alaska.
 
 In truth, I celebrate just a little every day that this crisis from our past could not prevent us from enjoying a fabulous future.
 
 
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