How far is far enough when one is running away?
All the way back home, I suppose, because no matter which way you run, even if you zig zag, eventually you end up pretty darn close to where you started your trek.
I have been running since I was in elementary school. Actually, I didn't start this tour of the globe, my parents did. When I was one, they farmed me out to a 'paid' mom, a wonderful surrogate grandmother by the name of Ada Petit. She was a little woman, a little woman with a big heart.
When the war was over and my almost baby sister was about to be born, I was allowed to return to my family, but not for long. I was in second semester kindergarten then.
By the time I was seven and in second grade, off I was sent again; this time to live with my aunt and uncle. I remember plotting against that move. My relatives were kind and generous, but I just couldn't quite deal with being 'sent away'.
It took a little work, but by the time I was eight, I was back with my parents
By the time I was seventeen and graduating from high school, I had a change of mind. Already I had been separated from my parents on a couple of other occasions and family travel included a diagonal move across the country from Michigan to Arizona, the romantic desert that wrapped it's Saguaro cactus arms around me, refusing to let me leave forever. I spent sixth and seventh grade there.
After college graduation in Michigan, Arizona was the location of my first teaching assignment!
And then came California.
Canada, England, Spain, Italy, Greece, Mexico, New Zealand, Argentina, Chile
And now, of course, there is Australia.
And from here, I do the ex pat dance for a while. No matter how hard I try to stay away, I return regularly to revel in the midst of 'too much'...too many possibilities are the bain of my existence.
Maturity allows us to come to some decisions about what is good and what is evil. I know evil these days when I see it.
Evil is that consumer temptation that one can find, for instance, in the toothpaste aisle of your local super market. All those brands!!..all those possibilities...oh yeah..until you check out the ingredients and discover that they are all the same!! Yup..that's the America I return to...I wallow in the corruption of spirit that comes from wandering my favorite 'super store'..
marveling at all these possibilities..
And when I can no longer deal with the stress of 'making up my mind', I flee..back to my world where there are actually only two shelves of toothpaste, each shelf only one meter long, in my local market..not very super...but very comfortable.