Photo source: Michal Bres
My Real Memoir
The day I ran away didn’t arrive unbidden. After all, I’d threatened before to leave once I’d had all I could take of unreasonable adult demands (brain-numbing homework and soul-sucking chores). But leave for where? Why, a raft on the Mississippi River, of course, where I’d live like Huckleberry Finn, free from all responsibilities! But the straw that broke this 7-year-old’s back was Mommandad’s increasing limits on my adventuring. Suddenly, I had to tell them, “Where I was going,” “When I’d be back,” and “Where I’d been!” Thus, on a cloudy Saturday morning, I informed Mom of my decision to leave and never return.
I must admit, the coolness of her reaction surprised me:
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“OK.”
That was it. Just “OK.” And then she proceeded to pack my lunch. She was obviously anxious to get rid of me.
I Stomped About in My Bedroom…
…slamming necessities—my sacred texts (Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, The Call of the Wild) and leftover Halloween candy—into a manly rucksack (my pillowcase), then headed for the front door, shouting,
“I’m going now!”
Silence.
“Forever!”
“OK.”
Slam!
It Was Nearly Two Miles…
…to the end of The Field, the last vestige of rural life in our little suburb. I’d never been to the end, where the stately eucalyptus trees marched. Until now. As I trudged along, pillow case dangling from a broom handle, plastic pioneer canteen on my belt, I was ablaze with the spirit of adventure.
The only thing hampering my carefree spirit was the feeling I was being followed. Each time I’d reach the top of a hill I’d look back. Hadn’t I seen that car before? But then it would be gone. No, just my imagination.
Who knew a sack lunch could taste so good? I finished my PB&J, drained the last drop from my authentic Daniel Boone canteen, and headed toward the distant hills as the sun turned to burnt sienna (one of my favorite Crayola colors).
Three Hours Later…
…I was deep into uncharted territory. I was cold. And thirsty. Why had I decided to leave again? Reading a favorite chapter of Tom Sawyer would help, but that would require a bedside lamp. Or a flashlight and covers to read beneath.
I sat down on the hard alien soil, but I didn’t cry.
Much.
I’d almost reached the point of total despair when I heard wheels creeping up beside me. It wasn’t the sound of a car that had just arrived, it was the sound of a car that had been waiting, perhaps thirty or forty feet away, and then simply crept forward. Oh, great! I thought. And now I get kidnapped! Shlunka, shlunka, shlunk, the window rolled down.
“We’re having spaghetti for dinner. Want to come home?”
This time it was me who said,
“OK.”
“Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.”
~Psalm 139:9-10
I did something similar but at least took the riding lawnmower that our neighbor had loaned me for my journey. I ran out of gas in about a mile and had to push it home. At least you didn’t get a butt busting like I did with a Tupperware container. Misadventures have a price, and I paid it.
You sure did, Phil!
Fortunate for all of us you returned Mitch, to write about it.
Aw, thank you, Kathy. 🧡
I ran away from home more than once as a child. It had nothing to do with chores. I also ran away from home as an adult when I married a man I didn’t really know. We had only 4 dates over the course of 4 months. It lasted 30 years but I often wonder what would life would have been like if I had grown up in a loving, uplifting home.
🙏
Love this example of what true Love looks like. Your momanddad sound like amazing parents.
Thank you, Gail. 🧡
Had a big smile on my face as I read your story, so vividly recounted! And then I got to the scripture verse… and it made me cry! Such truth! Thank you so much. ❤️
My pleasure, Lynn. 🧡
Huge adventures require much needed carbs for the next Huck Finn outing! You made a good decision to say yes to sgetti! Tee hee….this is Epic, Mitch!
P.S.–love that color, too. And the sound of the window, lol!
🧡
É ESSENCIAL COMPARTILHAR ESSA CARTA DE UMA CUBANA:
https://gustavohorta.wordpress.com/2026/07/14/carta-aberta-ao-mundo-autora-ykay-romay-cubana-2026/
❤️
Amen.
So Calvin and Hobbes
https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.1659416638.8556/flat,750x,075,f-pad,750×1000,f8f8f8.webp
Perfect, Mark!
Great story, Mitch. My older brother did a similar thing at about the same time. He was leaving at dusk, my mom and dad waving goodbye. Dad asked him to “write if you get work”. Johnny got down to the corner, paused, ran back and said, “I’ve decided to give you another chance.”
That’s hilarious, Frank!
You had to have been ravenous after that trek, and your dear mother knew it. Lovely story. 🙂
Thank you, Nancy. 🧡
Delightful tale!
Thanks, Jeff!
“Your story captures the exact moment childhood independence meets the deeper truth of being lovingly watched over. The humor makes it delightful, but the quiet faithfulness beneath it makes it linger. It’s a beautiful reminder that even our boldest escapes end with a Father who comes close and simply says, ‘Want to come home?’”
Oh, wow! First, I loved the details – the burnt sienna crayon color, the spelling of Momandad, the trees, the hard alien soil, the Daniel Boone canteen, the creeping car, etc. But then you finish off with the Psalm. Double wow!
Great story! You have a wonderful mother, who knows what you need at exactly the right time. She will always have your back, just as God does.
Wonderfully resonant run-away experience! Many thanks, Mitch.
Pillow case and broomstick. Classic tramp style!
I do love your stories! 😉
Wow, being a mother myself, I think your mother was very wise and supportive ☺️
I love this Mitch. What a loving mother.