running away
I've never run away from home, but I've dreamed about it. Not really running in the sense of trying to get away from something but running to something; setting out to find an adventure. I've imagined filling a backpack with supplies and setting off through the rolling hill country. Ever read the book "From The Mixed-up Files Of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler"? Wonderful book. However instead of staying in a museum, like the siblings in the book did, my sister and I imagined hiding out in a mall. When we'd go to a mall with our parents, we'd secretly point out how comfortable the beds looked, and the many nooks and crannies we could hide in until closing time, until it was safe to go out and explore. Thinking about it now, it seems like it would be a little scary. Of course it never was in the minds of two sisters age six and eight, respectively.
Ironically, the only time I came close to running away, it was actually to run away from instead of to. Cliche, yes, but I was young and in love and got my heart broken, and believed it happened because I wasn't good enough. I was a bit of a hidden mess. So, I drove four and a half hours to see my sister. It was a Friday night, and I was going to see a few friends; girl friends whom I wanted to be close to but was still a bit on the outside of their circle. I don't think I was crying as I drove but I was always close to tears during that time. I didn't want to go back home. I wanted nothing more than to pick up and leave everything behind me and start again. My sister had just left for college, and suddenly I envied the distance she had between what we had always known, the newness, while still being connected to everything familiar. I had just gotten an email from her that day. I made a sudden choice: I called and asked if I could come visit her that weekend. She said yes, so I called my Dad next for directions. I set out bright and early the next morning for the 4 - 5 hour drive. I had stayed the night with my friends so my bag was packed and ready to go straight from there. I drove and drove, listening to CD after CD and singing along at the top of my lungs. It was probably around noon on Saturday when I arrived. It was the first time I or any of our family had visited her at college. She showed me around campus and the town and introduced me to people on her floor. I remember that we went and got ice cream, and I think we went to church on Sunday morning. It's funny the little things we each remember. I remember just what I was wearing on Sunday, I remember listening to a CD by Bare Naked Ladies and talking about certain songs, and I remember that we were both a little sad when it came time for me to leave.
It was dark when I got back. I stopped by my church for the evening service. The sermon was over and the band was closing the second worship set when I arrived. I walked through the large doors of the beautiful church and felt both at home and alone. I felt alone alot back then. It was a bittersweet trip; I had seen my sister because I wanted to, but also because I wanted to run away. Because I hadn't wanted to go home. Yet there I was again; less than two days later, I was back home and resigned to being at work by 7:15 in the morning.
So that is the only time I can recall that I actually ran away. Really though, does that even count? Nobody knew I was running away as I did it, and I essentially left a calling card with everyone saying where I was going and for how long.
I hid this memory away a long time ago without really examining it too closely until recently. The first time I visited my sister at college/the first time I sort of ran away. In all, it's a good memory.
Ironically, the only time I came close to running away, it was actually to run away from instead of to. Cliche, yes, but I was young and in love and got my heart broken, and believed it happened because I wasn't good enough. I was a bit of a hidden mess. So, I drove four and a half hours to see my sister. It was a Friday night, and I was going to see a few friends; girl friends whom I wanted to be close to but was still a bit on the outside of their circle. I don't think I was crying as I drove but I was always close to tears during that time. I didn't want to go back home. I wanted nothing more than to pick up and leave everything behind me and start again. My sister had just left for college, and suddenly I envied the distance she had between what we had always known, the newness, while still being connected to everything familiar. I had just gotten an email from her that day. I made a sudden choice: I called and asked if I could come visit her that weekend. She said yes, so I called my Dad next for directions. I set out bright and early the next morning for the 4 - 5 hour drive. I had stayed the night with my friends so my bag was packed and ready to go straight from there. I drove and drove, listening to CD after CD and singing along at the top of my lungs. It was probably around noon on Saturday when I arrived. It was the first time I or any of our family had visited her at college. She showed me around campus and the town and introduced me to people on her floor. I remember that we went and got ice cream, and I think we went to church on Sunday morning. It's funny the little things we each remember. I remember just what I was wearing on Sunday, I remember listening to a CD by Bare Naked Ladies and talking about certain songs, and I remember that we were both a little sad when it came time for me to leave.
It was dark when I got back. I stopped by my church for the evening service. The sermon was over and the band was closing the second worship set when I arrived. I walked through the large doors of the beautiful church and felt both at home and alone. I felt alone alot back then. It was a bittersweet trip; I had seen my sister because I wanted to, but also because I wanted to run away. Because I hadn't wanted to go home. Yet there I was again; less than two days later, I was back home and resigned to being at work by 7:15 in the morning.
So that is the only time I can recall that I actually ran away. Really though, does that even count? Nobody knew I was running away as I did it, and I essentially left a calling card with everyone saying where I was going and for how long.
I hid this memory away a long time ago without really examining it too closely until recently. The first time I visited my sister at college/the first time I sort of ran away. In all, it's a good memory.
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