Baby Sarah's Great Escape

What makes a great adventure? Does it involve high speed chases? Must there be violence, or highly dangerous circumstances? Is it something that changes your life? Is it something so out of character for you that even those involved have trouble believing it? Or maybe, is it something so in character that every bold action you take is seen as part of a great adventure?

Sarah has had some great adventures in her life. They may seem mundane to some. They may seem unrealistic and hard to believe to others. For Sarah, they were the foundation of her character. They were exhilarating, or terrifying, but they are forever sewn into the fabric of her being. Sarah started her adventures at a young age. Most of her family takes great pleasure in the stories of her antics. Some of them are still annoyed at trying to raise her, over twenty years later.

I believe Sarah's first real adventure took place when she was about 1 year old. Her family had just moved into a new home. Her older brother and sister were both at school. Her father was at work, and her mother was busy unpacking boxes and settling the family in. Sarah was taking a nap in her room.

The whole world was still a new place for Sarah. She was barely learning that it had boundaries, and some of the more obvious ones still didn't make sense to her. Boundaries would never be a simple concept for her. In her old home, she knew just where she was allowed to be. She didn't always care, but she knew. This was a very different place, though. Some of the things in it were familiar, but she hadn't figured out where it began and ended yet. As she entered each new room, she marveled at this place that seemed to go on forever. There was a yard with grass and a cement path outside she was allowed to walk on.

While her mother unpacked, Sarah woke up. She wasn't much of a talker yet, so she didn't make much noise. She wondered around hazily, looking at everything new. She saw plain and boring boxes everywhere and tried to find something more interesting. She saw her mother in the next room. If she saw Mother, Mother certainly saw her. She saw dust and bugs in the windowsill. She put one in her mouth. It was very plain and boring too. It tasted like dust.

She saw green grass and trees through the window. That looked much more inviting. The screen was closed but the door was open. She pushed the screen and toddled outside. It was colorful and warm. She could feel the sun on her skin like a blankie. She felt safe and comfortable. She followed the path as far as it went. There was a darker kind of cement in front of her. On the other side was an endless place full of trees and grass and lots of nifty statues.

She didn't take her eyes off the place until she was in it. As her feet touched the grass, she smiled. It only took seconds for a Grown Up to swoop in. Before she knew it, she was back across the dark cement and inside the plain and boring walls again. She looked for something to do while the grown ups talked.

Grown Up: "Did you lose something?"
Mother: "Oh my God! How'd she get out?!?"
Grown Up: "She was across the street."
Mother: "In the graveyard?!?!"
Grown Up: "She was just wandering around. She seems fine."

There was more, but Sarah had found Kitchen Things on the floor. She played happily while the grown ups did their talking.

Sarah never entirely believed the story. She thought maybe it was made up or an exaggeration. That didn't really matter though. She heard the story so many times that she did believe something in it. Everyone did. They believed she was the kind of person that would take that kind of adventure at that kind of age. It wasn't the early adventures that made her an adventurous person. It was the telling of stories that taught her she was an adventurous person. Like a snowball on a mountain, it was all downhill from there.