It's a Dangerous Business, Going Out Your Door...

I remember being three or four years old and contriving with my sister to run away from home. I don't recall how it started- probably something along the lines of my five-year-old sister saying 'Sissy, we're running away,' and that was that- but I do remember packing my blanket and a banana in my little backpack while my sister made all these little plans to herself. We stepped out onto the driveway... then the sidewalk... and before we'd made it to the neighbor's driveway, we had to go back for something. And then stay home for good.

If anyone is wondering, yes, I think my mother was aware of our plans, and even helped us a little bit. I'm pretty sure she was somehow quite confident that two little girls with a couple of bananas and stuffed animals wouldn't get too far.

What I remember most strongly is the feeling once we reached the sidewalk of... wait, what are we doing?

And now we're responsible adults. This Saturday, bright and early, my sister and I are hitting the highway and I won't be back home until the 29th of June. Unless you count the one night I stop by and basically switch from road-trip clothes to Ragnarok garb. Which I don't.

This time, this whole thing was my idea, but I'm still wondering if that point will come where we realize that all we have are a couple of bananas and stuffed animals, and man, wouldn't it be nice to be home where everything is nice and familiar and not new or scary at all?

And the answer I'm looking for is a big, resounding NO. At least, not before some adventure.