Most of the stories my mother tells about me growing up have a common theme - my wandering ways. I have no recollection of it, but she says as soon as I started crawling, she'd turn around to find me gone. A quick search would find me at the bookcase devouring my older sister's storybooks. Once I was older and walking, my wandering off became riskier and more terrifying for my parents. Taking me shopping must have been a nightmare for them because if something caught my eye, I was gone always knowing where I was but failing to inform the worried parent that I was just browsing and not accepting a candy offer from a creepy stranger with a van. The exasperated looks I received when I was located are too numerous to count. Pretty sure my parents thought their shy daughter would be too timid and frightened to ever leave their side, but I proved early on the only thing I was shy about was telling them where I was going. Once I was found, I'd show them the 'neat' thing that had lured me away and then reluctantly follow behind them like a dutiful daughter.
I've never stopped wandering. The intrigue of new places, new things and new experiences are still catching my eye and leading me away from the presumed 'normal' path. Seven years ago, I decided to wander off to New York City. I grew up seeing it in the movies and on TV; I'd taken a few trips and seen firsthand how fascinating and special it was. There was so much to see and do and try, and I've seen and done and tried a lot of it. I'm sure I could've wandered here forever with its constant changing and surplus of shiny, new things. When I was a child and I'd wander off, my family would always draw me back. Things are a little different this time, my parents aren't the exasperated ones, two little boys are. Those nephews of mine have dulled the allure of the new for me. Suddenly, seeing a new exhibit pales in comparison to their first day of school. No date has been finalized, but I've already started warning those little cuties that their aunt is coming home for good and they'll soon be sick of her.
I've never stopped wandering. The intrigue of new places, new things and new experiences are still catching my eye and leading me away from the presumed 'normal' path. Seven years ago, I decided to wander off to New York City. I grew up seeing it in the movies and on TV; I'd taken a few trips and seen firsthand how fascinating and special it was. There was so much to see and do and try, and I've seen and done and tried a lot of it. I'm sure I could've wandered here forever with its constant changing and surplus of shiny, new things. When I was a child and I'd wander off, my family would always draw me back. Things are a little different this time, my parents aren't the exasperated ones, two little boys are. Those nephews of mine have dulled the allure of the new for me. Suddenly, seeing a new exhibit pales in comparison to their first day of school. No date has been finalized, but I've already started warning those little cuties that their aunt is coming home for good and they'll soon be sick of her.
