The Closest I’ve Gotten to an Adventure

So—here is an account of the closest I’ve gotten to an adventure. And it’s all thanks to me, my mom, and my anger problems.

One day, my mom and I were in a fight (wow that sounds violent)—Imean, I got mad and she got mad and we had to go into the caps lock level of hollering in each other’s faces—waitno. I didn’t exactly holler. I just sort of raised my voice a little bit, and it was right before she had to take my brother to a piano lesson.

This was on… Wednesday?

Anyhow, she was standing at the door, and she spat something mean and bullyful and make-fun-ofsful and super mean thing to me, something very un-mother like, because usually mothers don’t make fun of you or anything, they just give you a full diatribe and reprimand on how you should improve (insert flaw in personality/complexion/intelligence here). So, there I was, my mother already in the car and driving away, me, fuming, sitting on the floor and ready to burst any minute,

and I came up with an amazing idea.

Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

It was the smartest thing I had ever come up with. It was brilliant—flawless.

I would run away!

At the moment, I felt a surge of triumph and contempt toward my mother, thinking ‘Hah, you can’t stop me now!’ Because I’d leave, and she’d be devastated, and she will regret doing such horrible things to me. She would say, “Oh, I should have been nicer to _, I should have understood her more, Oh, Please, Why did I do this?” And she would be sad forever. It was the best way.

Then I stared at my jacket, which was casually flung over bottom stair (that leads to upstairs) that I had put there after school that day, thinking, “In a few minutes, I will have picked that up and it would be all the way across the street along with me.”

Then, a feeling of anxiety began to bubble up from my stomach.

I didn’t feel like I was up to it.

But then I thought, “Well, you always say you’re going to do something, and you never do it.”

So I dared my self. I triple dared myself. I double decker doctor pepper super duper dared myself to take that jacket, put it on, shove my boots on, and run out the door.

Then I thought about it, and I decided that running away was overrated, and it wasn’t ‘the thing’ anymore, and that I’d just walk around the neighborhood. And then I’d walk in just as Mom would walk in (she only drops him off and comes right back), and she’d ask what happened, and I’d say that I wanted to run away, then she’d feel bad—not the same amount of impact as running away, but still some, at least.

So in a mush of anger, triumph, confusion, and anxiety, I stomped over to the coat, snatched it up, put it on, put on my scarf, put on gloves, shoved my boots on, and then looked at the door.

Then I started observing it.

Then I sidetracked and looked out the window, peered out, and someone had just come home from work, it seemed, their car door was open and they were leaning in to get something from the back seat.

So I waited.

I can’t go out now, because then they’d spot me, and I’d run out, and they’d yell ‘WHATCHA DOING, LITTLE GIRL?’ and then I’d have nothing to say but ‘I was running away from home’, but since the person saw me in unsuccessful attempts in doing so, I’d never be able to run away, meaning that every time they see me and I see them in the morning or afternoon, they’d always remember the ‘deranged child who tried to run away at around seven o clock.’

So I waited. Then I just sort of peered out the door, looking down the sidewalk into the parking lot (we live in a townhouse), watching the person TAKE THEIR TIME in doing whatever they were doing. And when they finally left, I felt fear filling my lungs, heart, mind, everything. I looked into the parking lot that was growing ever so darker, and then I thought to myself, “I bet you’re just going to do this and waste some time and then Mom would come in and see you all dressed up at the front door and be like ‘WHAT THE CAULIFLOWERS WERE YOU DOING?” and I’d have nothing to say, and every time Mom would see me in the morning or afternoon, she’d remember the ‘deranged child who tried to run away at around seven o clock.’

So I double doctor pepper super duper dared myself to take that door, swing it open, then take the screen door, swing it open, then run outside.

So I did.

I swung the door open (not as dramatically as it may sound or as you may think), and then ran out the door (more like, creeped out the door). Down the sidewalk, run, run, run, away from home, away from home—end of sidewalk. Then I stood there, staring at the end of the sidewalk and the beginning of the parking lot.

And I saw a car coming in the parking lot, and I thought to myself ‘OHDEARLORDPLEASEFORGIVEMEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE’ and I ran in at 100 miles per hour, past the screen door and door and into the house.

Then after about three minutes, I realized that the car was not in fact, my mother’s, and I opened the door a little bit, and I realized that the person was gone.

Whew.

Then I stared at the parking lot, and then double doctor pepper super duper dared myself to step INTO THE PARKING LOT.

 

OH GEEZUS LOUISEUS I JUST DARED MYSELF DO TO SOMETHING POTENTIALLY FATAL AND DANGEROUS.

But I swung the door open (quietly, because if I did it loudly, it would arouse attention from my father who would, most likely, be half asleep and doing computer work in the basement) and ran out the door and ran to the parking lot, stared at a person who just happened to open their door to walk outside, and then sped right back into the house.

I felt like an idiot, but at the same time, felt a surge of triumph (very similar with when I came up with the idea), thinking to myself, “I did it! I did it! Now, all I have to do is walk all the way behind the house and near the woods, walk all the way around, to the play ground, then walk around and come back home. It would be an absolutely rebellious adventure! I would take my phone as light and as an emergency, in case I got kidnapped or wounded by a nearby lurking wolf, and I would go through all that darkness and then COME BACK HOME! WITH A NEW SELF AND NEW TRIUMPH AND AN ADVENTURE TO TELL!

So I took my phone (after looking for it), then marched out the door. I then realized that to my right, my neighbor was talking to whomever it was at the door for like hours, and to my left, this man was leaving his house and going to his car and going back and on and on and on.

This would require maximum stealth, because in order to get behind my house and travel that far, I’d have to pass either of them.

So I took my phone, ran to the sidewalk, and suddenly decided that I’d save this for another day, so I ran back inside, except I didn’t feel like opening the door to get back inside. It was a waste, all that time of going from house to sidewalk to house to parking lot to house to…

so I sat, right in front of the door, outside of the door, looking out onto the street. There were two bushes to the side of the door, so I could be easily concealed from my two neighbors who refused to stay inside the house.

I felt so rebellious, triumphant, and HIDDEN. I felt like I could sit here all day, because I had done something I had never done before, and next time, I might even wake up in the middle of the night and go on an adventure—maybe I’d even tell my friends to come, too—my neighbor friends, if they agreed.

Yes!