By Kate Kole
I ran away more than once as a kid. And by ‘ran away’ I mean I packed my bookbag with all the essentials for a one-night’s stay at a friend’s house, headed out the front door, walked half a block down the street, and remembered no friend had actually invited me to come sleep over, at which point I sheepishly began my journey back home to sit underneath the tree in our front yard. Until of course, I got hungry, cold, bored, or needed to use the restroom, eventually waving the white flag and going inside. As the youngest of 3 kids, I’m not sure my parents even noticed my half hour absences.
Sometimes that childhood fantasy of running away sneaks up again. Not in a ‘create a new identity and never look back’ Jason Bourne kind of way. Just in a stressed out, don’t know what to do next, wouldn’t it be nice to go live in a beach house and eat donuts in bed sort of sense. Continue reading