Born to Wander

 When I was little, I was outside all the time.  There were sixty acres to explore, complete with a field, a pond, and thirty-five acres of woods.  In the summers, I went out every day in my playclothes (usually boys' painter pants and a t-shirt) and, usually with my sisters, met up with the neighbor boy to play in mud, build shelters in the woods, and terrorize the local wildlife.

I got in trouble on a regular basis, for many reasons.  To be succinct, I was a horrible child.  I smacked and bit my siblings (on purpose), broke things (by accident), and often forgot clear commands that my parents had given me.  Usually they spanked me, and I thank God they did.  It's why I'm mostly civilized now.  But sometimes they put me in my room and told me to stay, and usually, I didn't.  I'd climb out the window and run off into the night in my pajamas. 

Now, I'm not claiming to be unique in any of this.  There are plenty of people out there who grew up wild, who couldn't sit still and just needed to take a walk when they were emotional.  I think parts of this are common to everyone.  But please, allow me to be a little dramatic.

One night when I was probably eight, my parents went out, and left VA in charge.  When they got back, I told my dad that she had sent me to my room and I had been so mad I almost climbed out the window and walked up to the road (a good long walk across what's now a soy-field).  He told me if I got in the habit of doing that, someday I would keep walking and never come back.

When I was about twelve, I wasn't getting along well with my parents.  I made a list of things I would need, wrote a note to my parents, and set a deadline for myself of when I would decide whether I was running away or not.  By the time that deadline came along, I had decided to stay.

When Ferdinand (code name, obviously), said after months of back and forth that he had decided he liked another girl better than me, I was numb, relieved, and mostly, restless.  I wanted to leave then.  But it wasn't practical back then, so I set it out a few years, and spent weeks imagining that I was on the road, writing songs and books that were all about travel and independence.

I settled gradually back into life, got a job, and started rising the ranks.  I lost old friends and begrudgingly made new ones.

Honestly, it's no surprise that I've come to this point again.  My whole life predicted that at some point the itch under my skin would come at a time when my reason said, "Okay.  Better now than never."

And that time is now.