Running Away/Running Toward

Me about the same age when I decided to run away,
hunting Easter eggs at Grandma's house

I ran away once.  It was at my Grandma’s house.  I don’t even remember why, but I was really mad at my parents - they probably told me no about something.  All I remember is that I walked out Grandma’s front door with all the righteous indignation a 7-year-old can manage – off the porch I went and across Grandma’s front yard and I started down the driveway, which meant I could no longer see the house.

My anger and my thoughts – they’ll see – I bet they’ll miss me when I’m gone – I’ll show them – all those thoughts carried me over the rise and down the beginning of the driveway.

Then I looked back and realized I couldn’t see the house.  And I ran as fast as my little legs would carry me, back into the safety of Grandma’s house.

The funny part was that no one even knew I was gone.  They would have if I’d stayed gone, but I didn’t.  I came back, because I was afraid, but also because the safety of the arms of those who loved me was behind me, not ahead of me – it was in the direction we were all going together, not the direction I set out for myself.