The Great Adventure: Running Away from Home

I loved my family. No, let me correct that: I love my family. Growing up was safe and supportive. Even though, at one time, there were two adults and five kids living in a two-bedroom, one-bath home, I always felt that I was heard until I wasn't.

Don't worry; I hope to take you on a whimsical and heartwarming tale of this brave little adventurer who decided to run away to Grandma's house. Let me start by telling you about the reasons behind this little kid's decision and the challenges faced along the way.

But first, let me ask you…have you ever run away as a kid? Did you ever think about it? I will tell you that Grandma's desserts were legendary; her dog-loving, knowing eyes and supportive heart were always there regardless of what was happening in her life or work. Her straightforward, comforting embrace, which only a grandmother can provide, set the stage for the adventure.

My day began like most days: mom's voice telling us that it was time to wake up, and seven people going from sleep to 80 miles an hour in a nano-second. Then there was making the bed, racing to the bathroom with the determination to be the first in line while clutching everything you needed and taking the lead from the herd. With my room further down the hall, the natural rush to the single bathroom to brush my teeth, comb my hair, and get downstairs before one of my sisters picked the bathroom lock, breaking my sanctuary was top of mind. Like clockwork, the bobby pin was strategically placed in the single door lock when the unwritten rule of how much time you can have in the bathroom was up. Finally, the eagerness and pressure to move the clan from upstairs to downstairs continued from the line upstairs. And so, the dominos began to fall.

Motivation for Running Away

So, why did I do it?

No, it wasn't abuse, family issues, or even neglect. As I think back to that day, with 60 years of life under my belt and some retrospection, I realized that one single problem that caused me to leave was noise. Yep, noise. You might think noise is unwanted environmental sound, like construction, traffic, or loud music. However, in addition to that type of noise, there is also noise that is in our head. And this motivation to leave started in my head. From the moment my eyes opened, voices were teasing, running, yelling, laughing, and talking over and at each other. Sixteen hours a day, every day. At home, at school, at recess, and yes, even the minutes before you shut your eyes to go to sleep. Stay with me from the moment I woke up to the proximity of people, expectations, and noise surrounding me.

It occurred, not because of one huge problem that caused me to go but rather because it was a series of little inconsequential actions of others that seemed, at the moment, so overwhelming that I had to separate myself from it.

Planning and Preparation

In a small community where "everybody knows your name," I never thought about the safety of walking to grandma's house. After all, it was the 1960s. My planning didn't take months of an organized strategy but took place in one solitary moment. One voice too many, one sound that grabbed my nerves and wouldn't let go, and the only escape I could conceive was leaving the environment. I did think about what to bring. What was essential? A favorite toy? I didn't have one that was specifically mine. A map? Snacks? She was only six blocks away, and there was always food at Grandma's house. I didn't have a suitcase, so carrying a lot was not an option. I thought about a change of clothes, but I wasn't worried since Grandma had a washing machine. What about a toothbrush? I grabbed one—toothpaste, not a problem. Grandma used baking soda; how bad could that be? A Nancy Drew book, I found my recently purchased $1.27 book that had yet to be devoured by everyone else in the house.

The Journey to Grandma's House

Armed with my toothbrush, book, and clothes on my back, I start my adventure. I took the shortcut that has been used every day of my life, and within 10 minutes, I was at grandma's house. The walk had a surprising sound. A sound that had me stop in my tracks, and I had to take it in. That sound…quiet. I had not heard quiet in I don't know how long. I could hear the leaves rustling and the light breeze whipping across my face. In the distance, a church bell rang. The trek continued, already feeling at peace and that this decision was the right one to make.

Arriving at Grandma's House

Since I saw Grandma every day, the visit was not originally strange, but somehow, Grandma could tell that this was not a routine visit. It was a heartwarming reunion, complete with hugs. She immediately pulled out her baking tools, and in silence, we baked my favorite family treat. Kruschicki, also known as angel wings. Mom suddenly arrived as I dusted the fresh cookies with powdered sugar from the oven.

How did she know? What did she do?

I regret that I don't know what adult conversation took place between Grandma and Mom, bringing her to Grandma's house, but, as a kid, seeing her at that moment captured the joy, love, and support that Mom gave by just sitting there with me. Mom came with her own angel wings, and when I was ready to go home, together, we went. I don't think my sisters ever knew what had happened, nor did it matter, but Mom's priceless, selfless action spoke volumes of her love and support.

Lessons Learned

Noise still gets in my head, but I have learned to give myself a break, literally and figuratively. As a grandmother, I am trying to establish the same bond with my grandson in case noise or something else makes him want to run away from home. The destination, hopefully, will be to me.