We’re coming into the home stretch in this month of daily blogging…which, of course, means that I really have to reach to come up with a topic at this point. Today, I found a list of 50 writing prompts, and decided to go with, “Write about the day you left home.”
In April of 1990, I was 20 years old. I was a full-time college student at the University of Maryland, College Park studying accounting, and worked full time at a women’s clothing store. I was also engaged to be married, and the date was set for June 30th. In addition to all of this, I was still living at home, at my mother’s request (insistence).
My fiance had recently gotten out of the Air Force and was living in the apartment that we would share after the wedding. Not having any furniture of his own yet, we moved my bedroom furniture into the apartment, leaving me to spend my last few single months sleeping on a cot. Does anyone see a problem here? I sure did!
I contributed towards the rent and bills. Whenever I wasn’t working or at school, I was at the apartment – at least until my 11pm curfew rolled around…then it was back home to my cot. This went on until Spring Break, when I got an idea.
My mom stopped me as I came up the stairs from my basement bedroom, packed duffel bag in hand.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Going on Spring Break,” was my reply.
“Where are you going?”
“To my apartment.”
Two or three weeks later, the phone rang at my apartment. It was mom.
“You’re not coming home, are you?”