A 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 at what I do not know.
I put a few things in a brown paper bag, announced that I was leaving and walked towards the kitchen door.
I do remember my mother saying, "Goodbye, and have fun." I was bothered by her casualness, didn't she realize that I was seriously leaving?
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 thereafter my brother Marty (who was five years old) 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 and pulled out a chocolate chip cookie and ate it. I asked him for one. 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.
Did you ever run away from home?
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