refugee

“ I could see the horizon, and I knew it was running away from me”

~Augusten Burroughs~

The first time I ran away from home I was seven years old. I took a $20 bill off of my dad‘s dresser. I climbed out of the bathroom window after dinner. I rode my bike across town to the grocery store and bought something to drink and cat food. The cat food was so that the clerk wouldn’t get suspicious of my BIG $20 bill. Then I rode my bike to Pilot Butte. I was going to live there, alone, forever. In the woods. By myself. But then it started to get dark, so I went to the payphone and I called my house. My mom was screaming. They had the police looking for me. And when the police found me, they never even asked me why I ran away.

The second time I ran away from home, I was 10 years old. I went down to the railroad tracks by the park by my house. I was going to live in a car and be a “bum”. Forever. I laid inside that stinky burnt out car for hours. But then it started to get dark and I was still in the car when a man showed up. He looked at me and said “You had better get home before you get hurt!” So I got out of the car and I ran home as fast as I could. The police were in the driveway. And I told them I got lost.

The third time I ran away from home, I was 15 and I took one of my dad‘s silver bars. It was worth $100. I was going to sell it and buy a car and drive to California with my boyfriend and stay there. Forever. But I could not sell the bar because I was not 18 years old. So instead, we went to his house and sat in his room. My mom showed up and banged on the door and yelled from the outside. We coward on the floor, but we did not answer the door. Then shortly after that his mom showed up and brought us a pizza. She talked to us. Then she said that my mom had called her and that she had to take me home or that my mom was going to send the police. She drove me home.

The fourth time I ran away I was 15. Again. I called my boyfriend. And I said “I’m taking the car and I’m leaving at midnight and I’m going to Mexico and I’m never coming back.” He didn’t hesitate, “I’m coming with you” he said, even though he had no reason to leave. At midnight, we left. Drove to the border,  California, “Do you have any fruits or vegetables?” That was all they asked and I had expected helicopters in search of me. We were almost mugged in San Francisco. Then got the car stuck on a hill, it was a stick shift. But we kept going. Drove for 36 hours with no sleep and finally pulled over to sleep. Then a police officer shined his flashlight in the car. Told me to get in his car. Told my boyfriend to follow us. Called my mom. Told her running away was not illegal. He couldn’t hold me longer than a couple hours. My aunt who lived in California came. Then my parents came. They took me home. I said, “If you hit me. If you ground me. If you say, I can’t see my boyfriend. You’ll never find me again.” I meant it. And they knew it. That was the last time I ran away. Until I was thrown away. Thrown out like garbage.