Running Away From Home...Then and Now

When I was about six or seven years old I decided to run away from home. Since this wasabout two decades ago, I forget the exact reason, but I am sure it had to do with something my parents made me do or would not allow me to do. I decided running away form home would grant me freedom. I packed up a backpack full of toys and a loaf of bread (seven-year olds don't think to pack clothes or soap), grabbed the dog and announced that I was running away. I made it to the corner, stopped and waited for my parents to call my bluff and come running after me, promising me all of the ice cream I wanted if I would just eturn home (unbeknowest to me, they were watching from the window the whole time, no dout laughing their asses off). I was not allowed to cross the street on my own and I was still afraid of the dark, so I decided to turn around.

Twenty years later I admit I still have fantasies about running away sometimes. Don't get me wrong, my life is extremely fulfilling, but I would like to think that we all have "running away" days. Why else to people go on vacations, go to movies, or bars for that matter. Anyway, I do not have running away fantasies for any profound reason. It has been raining for two weeks straight, my downstairs neighbor is apparently hard of hearing and makes a hobby out of blaring his music at four A.M. (my five month old does not wake me during the night, my neighbor does), and the garbage collectors broke my garbage can and then had the nerve to leave a note on it demanding that I replace it because it was too difficult to put it on the lift. The baby is teething and has learned the joys of screaming at the top of his lungs. Every time it rains rain water drips in through the top windows. Did I mention it has been raining for two weeks. So I wrestle the carseat down the stairs, load the baby in the car, and thank God that Starbucks has a drive through. Yea, I know, I should not be spending four dollars on a latte. Then I think, what if I filled the car with gas and just kept driving? Where would I end up? Hopefully somewhere warm, where it does not rain. How about the desert? You have to admit it is a liberating thought, leaving without a plan, going someplace where no one knows you. When I relayed my fantasy to Jim heb asked if I'd miss him. I told him I would text him our whereabouts. Needless to say, I did not run away. I drove across the street, paid for my over-priced latte, and returned home. At least this time I made it accross the street.