#runawaylog

I am extremely jealous of all the tiny-housers and the off-the-grid-livers. The complete independence must feel incredibly empowering. The security of being able to provide for yourself off the work you did on your own land is something that I yearn to experience. The satisfaction of owning your own home outright. I’d like to own a Volkswagen camper. Carry my home with me wherever I go, just like a turtle. I would visit all the national parks. Every single one of them. Spend some days doing nothing but hiking and swimming and sketching. I’d become a sun chaser. Migrate south for the winter. I would never have to wear anything more than a tank top and shorts. I’d let the sun bleach my hair, and grow it out nice and long. I’d finally have time to learn an instrument, or perfect my Spanish. Yeah, that sounds like a plan. But first I’ll need a driver’s license.

It’s 4:45 pm. I’ve been watching the clock for an hour. It seems like the hands are moving slower and slower. I’m working my shift at the Grocer’s; I get off in 15 minutes. I’ve been working this same job for nearly 10 years, and I only recently started asking myself: What’s next? The customer line for my counter is 5 carts deep and growing. Only two other people working checkout. Will Elise be on time for once? I wonder. I try to keep a smile as I ring up and then bag, ring up, bag… What time is it now? 4:46? C’mon… Finally it’s 5 and Elise taps me on the shoulder. “Hey girl! Have a good night!” She says, and motions that it’s ok for me to go. I run to the back and clock out. There’s an envelope waiting there on the table for me, a cash advance on the next paycheck. My boss thought it was a weird request, but I told him it was for a birthday present for my mom. I grab my bag from my locker, and stuff my apron and hat in its place. I take a deep breathe as the back door slams behind me. It’s time. I get in my car and head for the interstate. I’ll drive all night until just before sunrise, and then park my car somewhere on the side of the road where there’s a beautiful view. I’ll be hundreds of miles away. I wonder when someone will notice I’m gone. If someone will notice. It won’t matter anyway; they’ll have no way of knowing where I’ve run off to.