A Childhood Memory:
I was seven years old the first and last time I ran away from home. I remember I was mad at my mother– but why I do not know.
Putting a few things in a brown paper bag, I announced that I was leaving and walked towards the kitchen door. My mother whipped her hands on her apron, then said, "Goodbye, and have fun," as she put the dried dishes awat in the cupboard. I was surprised by her flippant reaction… didn't she realize that I was seriously running away?
I walked to the end of our graveled lane and since I didn't know which way to go. I sat down by the mailbox.
Soon there after my brother Marty (who was five) came walking down the lane. He too had a brown paper bag. He sat down beside me. I assumed he didn't know which way to go either.
He opened his brown paper bag, pulled out a chocolate chip cookie and ate it. I asked him if he had one for me. He said, "Mommy told me not to share them with you unless you decided to come home."
I recall the sound of my brother opening that paper bag, and the taste of love in those cookies.
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Did you ever runaway from home?
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