Running Away from Home
By Janice Dugle, High Desert Branch
I will be turning sixty this autumn and my high school friend, Patti, is going to be turning fifty-nine. Aren’t we supposed to still be teenagers? What happened? How did we fall asleep and just wake up old? Where did all the time go? I can remember exact conversations from when we were young so it can’t have been that long ago. Was it really forty-two years ago? No! It can’t be. I remember the dress I wore to prom.
Life has been busy. We each got married and divorced. We raised our children. We had
careers. We moved. We grocery shopped, paid bills and were responsible. And we got OLD.
I was whining to my girlfriend all about how I felt lost and overwhelmed and that I was suffocating in this life I had created. I wanted to run away for a few days. I needed to catch my breath. I needed some girl time. I needed to be with someone I did not have to
take care of. I wanted the earth to stop and let me off the merry-go-round. I wanted to be a selfish brat.
Patti said let’s do it. We picked a destination, and we made a plan. I always need a plan. Sedona it would be, via Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. Waiting in the new Henry Reed Airport for the adventure to begin. Patti comes down on the escalator, I spot her right away, but she does not see me. I just yell her name across the concourse.
We hug and giggle. Time seems to slip backwards. We are not the seniors of middle age anymore. We are right back to being those teenage girls in senior year of high school. We laugh at all the silly things that only long-time friends can. We fill in the gaps since we saw each other last. We text our missing friend to tell her she has to come next time. Yes we have already decided that there will be a next time.
Patti driving down winding highway 89A. I had no idea it would be this bendy. I am looking out the window at the view while Patti keeps her eyes on that yellow line. I tease her about not wanting to die. The rest of the week we joke back and forth about trying to kill the other. Hiking was on the list of must dos. Hiking and getting lost in nature. Taking time to slow down and just hear the crunch of your feet on the trail. To feel your knees ache and to know that you did it. I tallied up our miles: 27.95 and the equivalent of 101 flights of stairs. See Patti was trying to kill me. I sat on the top of a rock and just closed my eyes. I was on the edge of the universe. The breeze was blowing, and it took all my cares and troubles away. I felt my lungs fully expand. I could breathe again. There is just something about getting your feet into the dirt; in this case getting the dirt all over me. That red clay dirt that stains your clothes and heals your heart. Chatting to strangers while looking at all the beautiful geodes in the local shops. Just strolling from place to place, people watching and enjoying the sunshine. Sitting up chatting to be so tired and looking to see we made it all the way to 9:00 p.m. Remembering that we would start our nights at that time in our youth.
Laughing at how old we must be.
I wanted to run away and instead I found myself. Out in the red dirt of Sedona I found joy and peace and my direction. In spite of Patti and me getting lost. I can feel me coming back to myself.
I think I may just run away more often.
“Running Away from Home” originally appeared in
the November 2024 Inkslinger, newsletter of the High Desert Branch