... my sister and I, outraged over some perceived injustice from our parents, decided to run away from home. We drew a map of the route to our cousins' house, convinced they would hide us from the grownups and we'd conspire together to get "Out West". We stuffed the map and various and sundry necessary items (probably some pilfered snacks) into the denim knapsacks Mom had made us. The ones with the metal snaps Pop-pop installed at his Shop. Then we set off down the road.
Our house was situated across the street from my grandparents' house. You could look out our front door and into theirs-- although it was a decent distance away. Across a very busy road. A major highway, actually. Loud, fast and busy. Very loud.
And yet, we were still able to clearly hear...
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING???"
Grandmom, standing on her porch, phone in hand already calling Mom, the long curly, old-fashioned cord wrapped around her legs and trailing into the house behind her,
"YOU GET BACK IN THAT HOUSE RIGHT NOW! WHAT WEREYOUTHINKING!!??"
And we skedaddled, hightailed it, skat-skit-lickety-splitfastasyoucan into the back yard and hid in the pine trees by the chicken house.
I will draw a veil over the rest of the afternoon for the sake of my adult dignity.
In retrospect, Grandmom probably saved our lives that day. If that's not to dramatic to say out loud....