Thursday, August 12, 2010

What Once Was...

I remember this one time when I was about 9 or 10 years old that I tried to run away from home.

Now, I’m certain that all children get that idea at some point in time or another. Running away from home seems like such a good idea. You are tired of the oppression of your parents and you desire the ability to make your own choices about everything. You are idealistic and naïve and don’t really understand the whole picture that goes along with being on your own.

The funny thing is though, I don’t know anyone that has every really gone through with it. I know there are definitely those who do, but I know none of them. I was one of those that I was fully prepared to run away. I had a plan in place. I had my clothes packed. I had my sleeping bag and my favorite stuffed dog. I had everything set up with the girl; I think her name was Caroline; that lived across the street from me. We were going to run away together.

There was this shack… I guess one could call it. It was clearly abandoned. It had a door and windows. It had a roof and four walls. It was about as shack-like as I had ever known. It was also not too far from where we lived. It was the perfect place as far as we could see. Caroline and I knew that this was going to be our future home. We had decided how we were going to set it up, complete with curtains. That’s right, curtains in a shack. But to us, this was going to be the perfect homestead. I don’t remember what time of year it was, but I think it may have been the summer. Summer in the North Carolina wasn’t too bad. Not like in Texas where, by August you are wishing for snow.

Neither of us had ever been to the shack. We had just seen it by the road each time our parents drove by it. So we didn’t really know what to expect when we got there. Of course, that was our plan. To get there.

I set my alarm clock in my room for about 3am. Late enough to ensure that everyone in the house is asleep and there would be few people out. Did everyone plan out their running away like that? I had all of my things already packed up and ready to go. I was so deliberate in my plan that when I snuck out of the house by the sliding back door, I made sure to place the rod in a way that would lock me out of the house when I closed the door. It was a major moment to me. I was going to run away and I wasn’t going back home. There was no way for me to go back home, so this was it.

I made my way over to Caroline’s house. Her window was closed, so I tapped on it for probably about fifteen minutes or so. Caroline never stirred. I saw her lying in her canopy bed with the yellow sheets and lacey comforter, her right arm thrown up over her head. She lay that way the whole time I was tapping on her window. She never woke up.

At this time I realized I was in some trouble. My shack-partner was clearly not going to follow through with our plan and I had locked myself out of my house. I suddenly became nervous. I was afraid to head over to the shack on my own. It was, after all, the three o’clock hour and there could be any number of scary things out there. When you are with a friend, it doesn’t seem quite so bad, but completely on your own? Nope. Not happening. So I did the only thing I could do. I made my way back to the house.

I went first to my window, but I knew it wouldn’t be open. I had double checked prior to leaving that it was locked. I was serious about leaving. I went back to the sliding door and tested it. I did a good job of making sure I couldn’t get back in. I stared at that rod in the doorway with such frustration. Why couldn’t I have thought this part of the plan out? Why was I so insistent that I was never going to return? What was I going to do?

I did the only thing any normal 9 or 10 year old would do. I pulled out my Strawberry Shortcake sleeping back and proceeded to set up camp outside the back door. It was at this point that I realized a crucial mistake in my overall plan.

I had forgotten my pillow. Thankfully, I had my trusty stuffed dog. She was grey and white. She had a red felt tongue. She was terribly itchy, but she made a really good pillow in the lacking presence of anything else. Beggars can’t be choosers at this point. I lay down trying to figure out my next step. Clearly someone was going to have to let me in. I don’t know who it would be, but a part of me was hoping that one of my little brothers would. I didn’t want to have to explain any of this to my parents. Eventually, I fell asleep on that back porch surrounded by blue hydrangeas.

I woke probably two hours later. I estimate this based on the light that was starting to shine. When I opened my eyes and put my glasses on, I realized that the rod had been removed and was now lying next to the track. What should I think about this? There was no one in the living room. My parents, as I could see through the other sliding glass door, were still in their beds and appeared to be asleep.

As quietly as I could, I slid the door open and tip-toed inside. Our cat Seymour was there to greet me. I found out later he played an integral part in my ability to return home. I carefully closed the door and made my way back to my room. I snuggled under the sheets and blanket with a real pillow underneath my head and fell asleep.

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