Running Away

All kids run away from home at some point, right? I know my siblings and I did so a few times. There are two times in particular that come to mind.

One of those times, I was pissed at my Dad for some reason or another. I can’t recall the precise reason. I didn’t get on well with my Dad, so me being pissed off at him was not an unusual occurrence. Anyway, I must have been madder than usual, because I decided to run away.

I pinched a suitcase from my parents’ wardrobe and had it packed with a few clothes and all my favourite books. I snuck next door and used their telephone to call a cab. My brother and sister caught me waiting for the taxi to show up. They made me promise to bring them along, or else they would dob me in.

Of course, we were caught pretty much immediately when the driver knocked on the door looking for whoever called him. I got in so much trouble for that one, mainly over the fact I was bringing my siblings, no matter that I was blackmailed into it!

The other time I’m thinking of, I don’t really remember myself. I more remember it from the stories Mum used to tell. Apparently, when I was little, I decided to run away from home. I don’t know why, probably something silly.

So, I got my backpack and my favourite toy, said goodbye to my Mum, and walked out the door. It wasn’t long before I hit a snag, though. At that age, I was not allowed to cross the road without holding the hand of an adult, so when I came to the crossing, I was stuck.

Mum says I spent the entire day just walking around the block again and again and again. She would poke her head out the door ever time I passed our house, and the neighbours called her every so often to let her know I was fine. In the end I was tired and hungry and a little afraid since it was getting dark, so I went back home.

Have you ever run away from home? Let me know in the comments below.

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