I was looking out from my bay window in Miami, Florida when it all happened. Me and my family were packing to go on our annual Anderson family trip to Barcelona. My family has always been the prepared type, so we packed all of our clothes into our micro suitcases. I had never really liked these trips because of how they all seemed to be about how my family thinks they are so much better than me. About how Dad says I should have learned something about Barcelona. About how all my older siblings think I’m so stupid, and about how all my younger siblings think I am just something there for them to annoy. Suddenly, I realized how much I was annoyed with my life.
I had thought about running away many times before this fateful day. It started when I was five years old, and my father was screaming, “Eden Grace Anderson, have you gone stupid?!” and whipped me with his belt because I had forgotten how to spell “estuary”, and “polyurethane”. Then, when I was eight, my mother forgot to show up to my honor roll ceremony and told me that I’m such a know-it-all. Finally, just last year when all my siblings left to go to Disneyland with my older cousins on my 11th birthday, and called me “Eddie” even though I asked them to call me “Eden”.
But this time was different. It was the perfect time. I had my suitcase all packed, and everyone else was too busy to notice me. I grabbed the money jar, (which has a total of $657.32) said goodbye to my dog, Oreo, and ran out the door. Lynn, my best friend (and across-the-street-neighbor) in Miami was outside in her front yard. “Hey Eden, where you going? I thought you had to leave for your family trip?” “Um, yeah…I’m just going to get the mail!” I lied. Who would get the mail with a full packed suitcase and two maps, one of Florida and the second of California?
I ran all the way to Mulberry Street, past the high school, past the middle school, past the elementary school, and Lou’s Mini Mart. I ran so much that I fell asleep once I reached the bus station. Right on the bus station bench.