There was a time or two I was an independent little cuss. Yes, me. I rebelled. I remember a time I decided that after school I would go to Robbie Bloch's house to play. I decide all on my own. And so I did. Trouble was, I was a second grader. And I didn't call my mother to let her know where I was. Of course it didn't occur to me she would worry. I knew were I was. And it was 1958. Nothing bad happened to little boys in 1958. At least not that we heard about. Not is suburban Detroit. So I had a good time playing whatever we were playing and finally Robbie's mom was making dinner and wondered if I shouldn't be getting home. "I guess," And so I left to head home. It must have been late spring because it wasn't anywhere near to get dark. So I just started back on my usual route home when I saw a familiar figure in the distance. It was my father. He was not happy.
Suffice to say I got a bit of a whipping with a thin switch on the way home. Across the back of my legs. Didn't hurt much more than my pride. It began to sink in that what I had done was not a good thing. Even though we didn't have cell phones, I did know our landline number by heart. And our address. We had to learn it in case we ever got lost. But I wasn't lost....
But my folks didn't know that.
I was grounded for sometime after that. I think I saw why what I had done wasn't exactly right, but, still. Okay, it was wrong. And I never did it again. To this day I still feel like I need to let someone know I'll be late coming home. Of course my dogs, Ching and Mig, don't care, even though they do scold me when I get home; mostly because they are hungry I expect.
My mother hugged me oh-so-tight that night at bedtime. It was then I realized just how worried she and even my dad had been. Although it was a foolish thing to do, it was also nice to see just how much my folks loved me.