A True Story

 

 

When I was three years old I ran away from home. I left my home and family when I was three. I left because I didn't like them. They made me set out the silverware on the table at mealtime. They did not understand the gravity of their transgression, neither did they repent of it. I had already formed the idea of going to Colorado and living in the mountains by myself. I would not be robbed of the sunshine of my happy youth. I had heard the call.

I made such preparations as I could before setting out. I took three carrots from the crisper and hid them away. I knew that the nights would be cold up in the mountains, so I selected a woolen poncho from the closet by the front door and laid it aside in an inconspicuous hiding place. I took great care not to arouse anyone's suspicions. I would not be thwarted in my resolve to be free. I dared not give any hint that my fetters were loosening, so I allowed this afternoon to proceed much like any other. I knew I was travelling light, but I was confident in my plan and knew that the Cosmos would reward my daring. My needs would somehow be met. Besides, creature comforts are of little concern to one who, so bound, sees the limitless promise of freedom which lies just over the western horizon. The mountains were there. Their boon would be mine, and the earth would rise to meet my feet each step of the way. Taking provisions from home was actually an act of unbelief, though I didn't realize it at the time.

I set the silverware on the table as always that evening. I even provided my keepers with a little token grumbling about the vicissitudes of domestic life. My only regret was that I must leave behind my dog, Angus. He was a delightful companion and an humble servant. He craved the structure and comfort of his prison, and I would not deny him that. Still, I would miss his warmth and his simple wisdom as I ventured out into the great unknown. I would neither seek his counsel, nor have him gainsay my decision; and I would not risk him betraying my intentions with noisy pleadings. I slipped him scraps of meat under the table and sought solace in the warm, wet velvet of his tongue in my fingers. I knew that my loss would be compensated and my ruthlessness rewarded once I reached my destination.

I excused myself after dinner and, gathering my supplies, headed for the edge of the woods behind my house. There was one more thing that I must do before I left. I had to speak to Daisy. She was my playmate and co-conspirator. Together we had made offerings to Witch Hagatha, who lived in the barn behind Daisy's house. In supplication to the Goddess we had crushed acorns and made mud pies to place upon the altar. I had to make her aware of my intentions and offer to let her join me. I believed she was linked to me spiritually, and I didn't want to think that I would be denied the comfort of her presence on the trek. She would joyfully leave her clan behind and accompany me on this adventure. How could she refuse? Were me not both of one faith? I loved her, and that love blinded me to her frailty. She was two years my senior, but looked to me as the source of her revelations.

I approached her with the confidence of one who has the conviction that he is a participant in the Divine Flow. She sat quietly beside me on a log as I shared with her my Vision. I told her how the Universe co-operates with those who dive headlong into the Stream. I exhorted her to strike in unison on the heated surface of my dreams and fashion with me a vehicle for joint attainment of the boons I would gladly share with her. We could return as masters and loose the bonds of our fellows and show them how to eat meat.

Daisy hesitated for a moment. She said she would have to ask her mother first. I bade her go and sat in stunned silence. I tried to make sense of her betrayal.

After a moment I rose and began my journey. I have not been back in all these years.