It was time to run away.


I was all packed and ready to move out.  I had decided that I had enough of my parents, rules, and being content living under the same roof day after day.  I was ready to be my own person and have an adventure that was not filtered through teachers, parents, etc.  I was ready to leave my mark on the world.  So I stuffed everything I needed into a suitcase and marched out of the house ready to write the next chapter in my life.  There was only one problem....

I was eight.

My suitcase was jammed with granola bars, snoopy dolls, my collection of Garfield comic books, and most likely a He-Man action figure or two.  It was heavy...and it took me some time to drag it from the kitchen where I had just given my parents my Emmy winning goodbye speech (which in hindsight needed a little dramatic background music from the Lifetime Network) that sounded something like this:

Eight Year Old Me:  "Well...don't come looking for me.  I am off to see the world. Tell my friends goodbye.  Don't try to stop me.  I am going...goodbye. "

My Dad:  "Ok.  Bye."

They had not even tried to stop me!!!!  I was outraged.  They were totally ok with their son running away.  Well I was going to show them that this was going to be the biggest mistake of their lives.  I attempted to strike back at them by snatching the last bag of Gold Fish Crackers (a fav of my Dad) from the counter.

With both hands I pulled the suitcase out the kitchen door and down our long driveway.  With each tug of my luggage that took every ounce of my frame to accomplish I would glance back at our homes large window to see if they were watching me leave.  I was expecting my folks to be clutching each other in heartbreak as they watched their youngest son head out into the great wide open.  To my dismay nobody was there.  My escape from the Roedel House was going without anyone to witness it. 

As my journey down the driveway continued I began to question why exactly I had packed so many things.  I probably could have done without bringing my most prized possession...which was Castle Greyskull.  Then as the cold Wyoming March wind gave me a slap across my face I was also reminded by the fact that I did not bring a coat with me.  Even my eight year old IQ told me that going without a jacket was a serious get away mistake.  I paused for a moment and thought if I should go back in and grab my coat.  I could just rush in and rush out without anyone trying to talk me out of leaving.

Then another rush of anger swept over me.  There was no way I was going back in there.  Even though my exodus was only about four minutes old I had already moved on.   I had turned the page.  My new life had already began.  Coat or no coat there was no going back into that house.  I was Mr. Gone Johnson.  Goodbye 218 west 7th avenue.

I took several more laborious steps toward the street.  As I need a new emotion rolled into Johntown.  There was a coup going on in my little heart.  Anger was replaced with a sudden deep sadness.  The thought of never going back was a hard one to think about.  If I was going to stick to my A-team like plan I would never sleep in my bed again.  Or have Christmas Morning with my family.  My fourth of July tradition of shooting fireworks with my brother in our backyard was over too.  Leaving so much behind was very hard to do.  This was the only place I had ever been.  It was my home.  So of course saying goodbye to it was extremely difficult for me.  With the realization of what was happening set in the tears soon followed. 

I was very sad.  It was hard to leave everything behind that I have ever known.  It was then that I wished one of my parents would have scooped me up and given me a hug while informing me that my running away was not an option.  I was not going to be the one to go back in and admit that I was wrong to leave....but....BUT...if someone from my family came rushing out to stop me now I knew I would certainly break and go back inside.  I checked the window again for signs of life.  Still, there was nobody there.  Under the whipping wind with both my hands grasping hold of my case I was frozen in grief on the driveway. 

Then suddenly I saw my brother come round the corner on his super cool BMX bike.   He speed down the street and did a Fonzi-like "bunny hop" over the curb.  He rode up to me quickly and hit the brakes at the last possible moment that prevented the two of us colliding like atoms in a secret lab somewhere.  I could tell by his concerned look on his kisser that he had noticed my traveling bag and tear tracks down my cheeks.

Sweet!  The voice of reason was here to talk me out of leaving!!  Thank God!

"What are you doing?"  my Brother asked coolly.

"I am running away." I responded.  I kept my answer short as to encourage him to ask questions about why I was leaving.  I knew that if I could show him my inner discontent he would provide me the brotherly support that would serve as an emotional balm.

He didn't really ask any questions though.  He simply responded with "Good.  You break my stuff:"

With that he and his BMX took off me toward the house.  He jumped off his bike and headed inside to shift through my abandoned belongings to see if there was anything he wanted.

Again I was left alone on the driveway with my really really heavy suitcase.  Again my emotions switched back to anger.  Nobody cared if I was leaving at all!!!!  They just didn't care!  That was why my parents didn't stop me inside, or watch me leave.  That was why my brother did not talk me down.  My family was indifferent to the fact that I was going out to blaze my own trail!! 

That anger helped me pull my luggage even faster down the driveway.  With each difficult yank on the handle I could smell the sweet air of freedom.  Yank!  Soon I was going to make my own rules for how I live!  Yank!  Soon I was going to be in control my own destiny!  Yank! Soon I would be doing something incredible with my life like becoming a private investigator (this was my early childhood vocation that I got from watching too much TV when I was younger.  Remington Steele and Riptide were mostly to blame) Yank!!  Goodbye old life.  Yank!! Hello new life!  Yank!!

With that last yank of my overweight suitcase my handle snapped and I went flying backward.  I landed on the pavement in a posture that indicated I was making snow angels....without snow though.  When I came to and got back on my feet I realized that my suitcase was not going to come with me now.  Without the cheap plastic handle (that I was still clutching) there was no way to bring the bag along with me.  I was running away with only the clothes on my back.. I thought that maybe the place where I was going I wouldn't need a Castle Greyskull...but I kind of doubted it.

Slowly I turned back toward the street and started to shuffle down the driveway again.  Now there was nothing keeping me from moving quickly to get away from home.  Once I made it to the curb a new thought came into my mind.  Which way was I going to go?

Right or left?

I had no idea.  I think I was hoping that by the time I made it down our long driveway and to the street there would have been some options.  I am not sure what those options would have been...maybe a band of traveling musicians was going to pull up in their van and ask me if I wanted to be their tambourine monkey.  I was hoping that my journey down the driveway would have lead me to a new understanding of where I wanted to go.  Instead there were no musical van, and no inspiration.  I was left standing lonely and winter windblown by the curb holding onto the luggage handle.  My back started to really hurt from my bear hug with the driveway.

I wanted to runaway.  I wanted a new and more exciting life.  I wanted something to happen to me.  But I had no plans of where I wanted to go exactly.  I wanted to leave...but I had no goal in mind of where I wanted to go.

I sat down on the curb and I felt scared.  I thought I would just know what to do and where to go when I reached the curb.   I didn't know anything.

I sat there for a moment thinking about how I knew I had to come back inside.  I would have to go back into the house that was occupied with people who did not care if I was leaving.  I was going to have to go back to the rules and the order.  I was going to have to go back to the place where the same thing happened day after day.

In the midst of my pity party I heard from behind me a voice say "All done buddy?"

I turned around and saw my father holding my broken suitcase across his chest.

"No." I lied.

"Come on it's cold outside.  Let's go in and warm up."  he said softly.

"I don't want to be warm." I lied again.

"I saw  you fall.  Are you ok?" he asked.

"Yes." I lied for the third time.

Then my Dad said something that I still remember word for word:

"Someday you can leave.  Someday you can go do your own thing.  Just not today.  Today this place is still your home.  Ok?"

"Ok..." I whispered with my teeth now chattering.

I got up and started walking back up the driveway with my dad back to the house.

"Did you know where you were going" he asked.

"No..." I said with a hint of defeat in my voice.

"That's ok.  Sometimes you just don't know...and that is ok" he said calmly.

We got back into the house and I was greeted with my Mom and Brother who were making Rice Krispie Treats for me.  It was c;lear that at no point were they ever fully convinced I was going to really leave.  Later as my jaw crunched down into one of the delicious bars I became aware that I really never did want to leave in the first place.  I may not know where it was I wanted to go with my life...but I knew that there was a place I did not ever really want to leave.

 What did I learn from the day I tried to escape?

* The Luggage that was made in the late 70's sucked.

* That my brother didn't actually want me to leave.  He actually kind of liked me.

* That my dad was much more patient with me than I am with my own children.

* That in Wyoming you should always pack a coat.

* That the job of "tambourine monkey" is still an awesome one.

* That it is ok to not have plans.  That not having goals can be ok.  I know that is counter to what everyone has told me.  That we should all have a master plan.  I don't.  I don't know if I am turning right or left at the curb...and it is ok.  I am still living without a plan or a goal in mind.  Yes...there are days when I want to pack up my family and move away to change everything.  But then I have a Rice Krispie treat and I feel home again.  My walk down life's driveway is only half over.....maybe there is still time for me to make up my mind.

God Bless.