I’d always loved terraces, roofs, the top of water tanks. Every time we moved to a new house, I’d go in search of the highest spot. And that would be designated my getaway.
I remember the time we were having guests at home. Before their arrival, I packed a few books, a bottle of water, some chips- the summer vacation essentials basically- and escaped to the roof. It was hot, summer after all, and there wasn’t much shade. But, while my parents gave up on my being a presentable daughter, I enjoyed my day immensely.
I went home when the mosquitoes succeeded in forcing me out late in the evening. My mother said I should fight it out with them because she wasn’t feeling very inclined to let me in.
But, that’s how those places were for me- full of nooks and corners where nobody would find me, where I can set up and forget the world and be forgotten by the world. They were places of magic, of endless possibilities. The inside of an empty closet didn’t excite me as much as an expansive terrace did. It gave me space to run and run away.
I guess I’m always running, always ensuring my escape route from my own life; always one foot on the outside, restless, tapping, waiting for that excuse to pull the other one out and run. Maybe that’s why I could never commit to a single hobby. Maybe that’s why I can never turn off my music even though it doesn’t help with studying (or writing right now). Maybe that’s why I’m scared of getting married.
And I suppose that’s the reason I’m also surprised that I’ve managed to reach my fifth post in this project.
If I complete this 100 day thing, does that mean I’m a little more grown up?
Is being a little more grown up a good thing, or does it mean bidding goodbye to that little girl who ran away from home?
Happier morning to you!