Saturday, June 06, 2009

Packing it in

With packing like a mad woman, I have been reminiscing about other times I have packed. I know what you're thinking, "That's so sad." However, when you move as often as I have and go away on as many weekend visits as I have, packing is a way of life.

My first thought about packing though is not related to vacation or accommodation. My first thought is about the time I packed to run away.

I was in Grade 6 or 7 at the time. I had decided I'd had enough of this life of mine and I was going on the road. I'm not sure if I planned to join the circus or just ride the rails from town to town, but I wasn't staying here.

I grabbed a duffel bag and started packing essentials.
  • A Barbie and all her clothes.
  • All my Noddy books.
  • My Champ Bear Care Bear.
  • My pajamas.
  • My blanket and my Scottie softy doll.
I was ready.

I knew that I couldn't just waltz down the stairs with my luggage and expect my mother not to notice. Instead, I developed a plan. I would hide my bag and come back for it when school was underway. I went to my bedroom window, cranked it open, and let the bag drop from my hands into the brush in front of the house. I heard a satisfying *thump* of it landing in the bushes and turned to go on about my morning like nothing was going on.

I managed to take a step before I heard my mother yell. My mother had an ability to - just by the tone of her voice - express her great displeasure in one word. That day, it was my name. I walked downstairs slowly and peered into the kitchen.

She stood there. Disapprovingly. Weight on one foot, hand on one hip. Staring at me.

"What did I just see going past the window?" Sh*t. Busted.

She made me go get the bag from outside, take it upstairs, unpack, and then get ready to go to school. I was grounded for a week too. She told me that next time, I should remember my toothbrush.

2 comments:

  1. Love it! I have a vague memory of packing to run away when I was little but, like you, I don't think I ever managed to leave the house. Parents! Pfff.

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  2. Did you pack your toothbrush the next time? Did Mom help you pack?

    Remember when Mitch ran away? He brought his clothes in black garbage bags to our house and "hid" them with our garbage. I think they ended up going out with the trash

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Crap monkies say "what?"