I was 8 years old. I had little need of luggage. But something about that old leather suitcase appealed to my imagination. The piece was better suited to my grandparents’era than my own. In fact, I had found it in my grandmother's house. Grandmother didn’t object, and so the suitcase came to live beneath my bed.
It was a cloudy fall morning, and a fine mist dampened the fallen leaves. I was angry. My mother had slighted me somehow, though now I have no idea what sparked my anger. I was upset, and I wanted to make her pay. I wanted to give her a taste of what life would be like without me.
I would run away.
“Goodbye, Mom. ”I stood outside the kitchen door，suitcase grasped firmly in hand.
“Goodbye, Mom, ”I repeated twice more，cracking open the swinging door with my foot the final time, to make sure she’d heard.
At last, Mom emerged, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She gave me the once over. I lifted the suitcase a little just to make sure she didn’t miss it.
“I'm leaving, ” I said.
I'd rehearsed for the anticipated reaction. The plan was to let her beg for a minute or two, and then I would cave after I was sure of her being sorry.
“Did you pack a lunch?”
Mom’s question knocked me off balance. Where were the tears? The begging? The pleas? “I said I'm leaving,”I said. “I'm running away. For…ever. ”I drew out the dreaded word, sure it would crack her resolve. Instead, she smiled.
“Well, would you like me to fix you something? A sandwich? Bag of chips? I just made chocolate chip cookies. ”
“I'm really going. ”I said.
“I can see that. ”
“Maybe a cookie. ”And then, “All right, I'm off. ”
注意:
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I stepped out with fresh-baked cookie in my pocket.
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A moment later,I began to walk back.
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