Draw a red line

I watch my daughter drawing a red line.
She started drawing on her sketchbook, but ran off of the paper, along the floor…
And right out the door.
I shouted for her to come back, but why worry? She’ll run out of ink or get tired…
One hour… two hours…
I get up and shout again.
No answer.
So, I follow the red line.
That was seventeen years and ten thousand miles ago.
You can’t see the line?
Oh, it’s there. Just too faint for you to see.
But I can.
And I will follow it until I find her.