sitting still, hearing loudly
There are things that commit us to remain where we are. In this day and age, major snowstorms, traffic jams, reality television, sadly enough. When I was a child I lived a mile from the train tracks and the highway, which were basically lovers along a dirty path North. I remember when my parents got new windows for our house. It was like a new castle for me; I no longer had to “push with all my might” to get the paint stuck window mucked frames up a quarter of an inch, no, I had the sliding Anderson fancy windows.
Those old windows never prevented me from doing anything. They were leaden and creaky but made a point with every entry or exit. My brother Alex and I had many escapes through those windows, knowing that they would always be open when we returned from our giant Carter’s plastic footie escape to the end of the long forbidden twenty foot driveway.
Oddly enough, when the windows were replaced I think life and escaping became too easy for us. And alas we learned something far ahead of our time because we were smart: if it’s too easy, it becomes boring and soon enough…we stopped escaping. We remained. We stopped for a period of time, days, years, thoughts, fears moved on until I snapped into adulthood with a house a fence a baby and the gnawing itch to again escape.
and then this happened. It was a normal 6:30am wake up call code red double diaper diarrhea kind of day that ended at 6:45am with me (the Queen) watching cartoons with my Prince and Princess (3 yrs old and 8 months). At 6:55am I’ve already had enough coffee, poop and vomit to last me a lifetime.
At 6:59am I got this:
Lucca: Mama, let’s play.
Me: what do you want to play?
Lucca: let’s go into a tunnel and escape.