The Time I Ran Away From Home

From the ages of nine to twelve I lived in a housing development in the middle of nowhere in Shanghai. Eventually my parents and I moved to an apartment complex closer to actual civilization; but for those three years I ran around the housing compound with my friends and wreaked havoc.

In the dead center of the compound there was a clubhouse. My friends and I broke every single rule at the clubhouse, and then some. There was a secret shortcut that led through my across-the-street neighbor’s yard to the back door of the clubhouse, which was our go-to strategy to get around the compound quickly.

One day, when I was about ten or eleven, my parents and I got into a fight. I’m not sure what it was about, but I’m absolutely certain that it was something stupid. Nevertheless, I was angry, and I decided the only way to get back at my parents was to run away from home.

So I packed my bag with, at least as far as I remember, nothing but Oreos and a book, and slid out the side glass door of my house. I took the secret shortcut and made it to the clubhouse in no less than two minutes. Once at the clubhouse I made my way upstairs, as stealthily as possible, and hid under a table.

I was probably only there for fifteen minutes when one of the ladies working the front desk received a phone call from my parents asking if I was there. I had obviously not been as sneaky as I thought I had been because my parents didn’t take very long to come pick me up and take me home.

I’m fairly certain I was punished, but it probably wasn’t for long. It’s not like I had formulated a long-term plan, you can only live off of one pack of Oreos for so long. 

The Time I Nearly Got Frostbite

This is probably one of my most favorite stories to tell people. I don't so much remember the event as I know what happened because the story has been told so many times. Even still, some of the details are kind of foggy, and I’ve had to make guesses here or there. 

It was either my parents’ birthdays or Valentines Day, because it happened early on in the year. My sister and I had decided to make a card for my parents while they went out to brunch to celebrate whatever they were celebrating. So, armed with a butt load of glitter and glue we headed outside so as not to make a mess inside the house.

Once the card was sufficiently sparkly we realized that our attempt to not make a mess had failed miserably. There was glitter all over the front porch. It wouldn’t be a surprise if my parents came home to find glitter all over the front porch.

Thus, my sister sent me inside to fetch a broom and a dustpan. Our plan was to gather the glitter and dump it somewhere in the yard. So, I went inside and grabbed the broom, closing the door as I went back outside. We cleaned up our mess and went to go back inside the house.

However, the door was locked. What my sister hadn’t told me was that I wasn’t supposed to close the door because it would lock from the inside.

Normally, this wouldn’t have been a big deal; we would have waited for my parents to get back home. But we were in our pajamas and it had snowed recently. We were already cold but we didn't know how long it would be until my parents got back home, so we huddled up and waited.

Not long after the phone started to ring. Of course, being locked outside there was nothing we could do about it. After what felt like hours, but was probably more like at most fifteen or thirty minutes, my parents came back. It turned out that my mom had been the one calling earlier and that when we hadn't answered she decided something was wrong.

As soon as she got home and found us shivering on the porch swing she took us inside and plopped us into a warm bath to defrost. We spent the rest of the morning bundled in blankets and drinking warm drinks.

So I guess the moral of the story is that it’s good my mom’s a giant worrywart. Otherwise my sister and I could have gotten frost bite for real (probably).