Little Runaway

I ran away from home when I was 11. I had had it - life was unfair and I was unappreciated and what better way to show it then to pack my bags and leave? Obviously this was more a stab at attention-getting than any real inclination to travel to, let's say Hollywood, to start a new life as a child star. But nonetheless I threw a few things together, hid them in the backyard, emptied the coffers and took off.

I did have some plans, however. Though it was into fall and the weather was turning chilly, my idea was to hide my blanket and pillow in the backyard during the day and go back there to sleep at night. Surely my mother would never notice that her daughter was sleeping behind the house. Daytimes, I would still be at school (it never occurred to me how easy it would be for her to just go to school to find me!), eating the free lunches, which, I decided, would be my big meal for the day. Other meals would be bought with the $11.00 I had - fast food toast in the morning and little hamburgers for the evening repast. I had roughly calculated how long this piggy bank wealth would last, and had decided that it would be better to just ignore it and deal with my eventual starvation when the time came and the well ran dry.

It was already dark when I left. I wrote a note and taped it to my closed bedroom door, sure that when my mom came home from work she would see it on the way to her own bedroom. The note explained how unwanted I felt at home and how it would be better for everyone if I just left. Newly free and unencumbered by parental captivity, I walked down to the field a half block from my house. I sat on a bench, watched the remaining colors of the sky disappear and wondered what my next move would be. It was sad, my situation, a young girl with no home, no place to go. True, I was now a free spirit, I could let down my hair and celebrate my release from confinement. Instead, I began to cry. I missed my warm house, my bedroom with the new bedspreads even though I had to share it with Pam, future hot meals and sleepovers with my best friend. I didn't want to sleep in the backyard - it was cold and damp and who knew what disgusting insects would crawl over me in my slumber. But what I really missed was my mommy. I had experienced the wandering life - I had been on the road and it was time to return to home base where I belonged. I had been gone no more than 30 minutes.

To my astonishment and dismay, the house was empty upon my return. My mother was always home by now, but the door was locked and I, keyless, could not get in. Had everything changed that quickly? Had my mother found my note and said, "HA! We are finally free of that cumbersome wretch! I thought it would never happen!" Had she and my sister then joined hands and danced jigs through the halls, put my remaining things in the trash can, wiped their hands free of me and gone out to dinner to celebrate?

I walked two doors down and knocked on Mrs. Silverman's door. The beautiful redhead whom I so admired answered the door and I instantly burst into fresh tears, trying to slow my breathing enough to tell her what had happened, what I had done. Mrs. Silverman had a key to my house and she knew just what to do. We went home and she got on the phone right away and called the police station. My mom and sister were there, sure enough, reporting my absence. When they got the message that I was home, they came right away.

Pam was ticked off, but my mom was happy to see me. As rocky as our relationship was, for those moments I felt that my mission had been accomplished. As it turned out, however, it wasn't to be the last time I left under bad circumstances. The next time I "ran away," it was into the arms of a man who I would marry and almost instantly divorce. It was the four-year equivalent of sitting in a field, not knowing what to do.

The good news is that, although I never went home again to stay, I did manage to figure out how to feed myself more than fast food toast, little hamburgers, and free starchy lunches.