Running away

I tried to run away from home once.

I packed a bag, stomped out, slammed the door and started walking. I had no idea where to go or what to do, and it was both exhilarating and frightening.

I only reached the end of the street. My older brother came to find me and he convinced me to come back. There were too many logical reasons for being home, while leaving was based on ridiculous notions - and so back I went.

I've spent much of my life since wishing I could run away.

I float the idea - of running with my family - occasionally. I'll spend my day imagining it, I practice the 'sell' and get the wording just right - and when Steve gets home I try to make it sound like running away from this little town into the rest of the world is the best idea.

Then we talk it through. That's the bit I hate. Suddenly I'm back to reality and without fail I'll spend the next few days feeling down.

The logic always wins.

The ridiculous things that I struggle to express are what stay inside me, though.

It's hard to explain that these hills are closing in on me. It sounds overly dramatic to say I can see our lives flashing before me - one child will start school in just over a year, the other will be enrolled in swimming lessons and kindergarten, then before you know it they're both at school - and then neither one is anymore. As much as I practice I can't properly explain the pictures in my head: the four of us taking crazy adventures together, showing our girls what life can be.

The way my heart races when I imagine that, and the sadness when I realise it's probably all going to stay in my imagination, can't compete with the arguments of logic.

It's a dream. One we talk about fulfilling one day. But the talk seems to have been happening for a long, long time.

Abbey asked me recently, "Is today 'one day' yet?" To others I laughed and joked about the things I've put off by saying 'one day'. To myself, I wished it was.

I guess I'm just a sensible person with some crazy ideas. Maybe I'm a homebody who just likes to feel that fear without actually going through with it. Perhaps everyone with a mortgage, two kids and a mountain of nappies to wash feels the same.

Or maybe I'm a crazy person trapped in a sensible life.

I'm not sure which - but I kind of want to find out.