Another one. Not obligated to read this.
Sometimes it’s good to have someone not take you seriously. If you talk to someone you only see once a week about, say, running away, chances are they won’t believe you. You can discuss it without it being too vulnerable of a topic. Plus, if you talk to someone you only see once a week about running away, they probably won’t try to stop you. On the other hand, if you talk to someone you know, someone you’re close with, there’s a possibility they’ll laugh it off nervously and just constantly worry or wonder about you. They’ll most likely never do anything about it, like help you find a reason to stay. It’s also possible they’ll take you seriously and help you get out of the God-forsaken town and everyone in it. You never know what kind of response you’ll get with a topic like this.
“I’m gonna run away one day, Rob.” Rob was one of her coworkers. She didn’t know him very well, but it didn’t matter. Karen needed to talk.
“To where?”
He was one of the nicer people at work. He was always smiling and always polite. Rob was allowed in.
“Somewhere in southern California would be ideal. I hear the rent’s high anywhere on the west coast, but I’m fairly familiar with the San Diego area.”
Rob smiled and said, “By familiar, do you mean you know how to read a map?”
Smiling is contagious. Rob walked out the door as another coworker walked in.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Escape.”
Her conversation with her father went a bit differently and involved awkward silences, praying, and a pint of cookie dough ice cream. He wasn’t convinced, spouting about teen angst and how when he was younger he thought he wanted the world, too. How he got the world, but lost it at the same time. They missed her. They had a right to. Karen stopped being angry about that a long time ago. Her father sometimes gets frustrated, though. He doesn’t always know how to handle little discussions, and now there’s all this talk about running away.
“Daddy it’s not running away if you know where I’m going! I won’t be missing. I just won’t be here.”
“Karen, we’re not talking about this right now.”
“We NEVER talk about it. We never talk about anything! Can you just hear me out?”
Enter cookie dough ice cream. Two spoons. Cookie dough was her mother’s favorite.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m just..suffocating. I feel like I’m done here. There’s nothing for me here anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love this place. I love my friends. I love you. But I feel so restricted. It doesn’t feel like home.”
Her father was looking straight forward. He was hearing her, but he was somewhere else.
“Karen, you’re just like your mother. A free spirit. A wanderer. Not all those who wander…”
“are lost,” they said together.
“I’ll think about it,” he said after another spoonful. “But I’ll need time, Karen. And I’m not making any promises, so stop planning what you’re going to pack.”
“How’d he know?” She thought.
She talked to a close friend about it as well. He took her seriously, and seemed sincere about wanting to accompany her. A few months after she mentioned it they were discussing life after college and he said, “I definitely need to get out of here. Still thinking about California?”
There she went with that smile of hers.
He remembered. He remembered when no one else even took her seriously. That meant more to Karen than anything right now.
The two most helpful people in this situation were the two most unrelated. Her coworker, who wasn’t even sure how to spell her last name, and her best friend, who could fill him in on everything else he would need to know about Karen. One didn’t take her seriously, the other did. Both of them supported and encouraged her, and that’s all she really needed. Doesn’t that pretty much go for the rest of the world?
“I’m gonna run away one day, Rob.” Rob was one of her coworkers. She didn’t know him very well, but it didn’t matter. Karen needed to talk.
“To where?”
He was one of the nicer people at work. He was always smiling and always polite. Rob was allowed in.
“Somewhere in southern California would be ideal. I hear the rent’s high anywhere on the west coast, but I’m fairly familiar with the San Diego area.”
Rob smiled and said, “By familiar, do you mean you know how to read a map?”
Smiling is contagious. Rob walked out the door as another coworker walked in.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Escape.”
Her conversation with her father went a bit differently and involved awkward silences, praying, and a pint of cookie dough ice cream. He wasn’t convinced, spouting about teen angst and how when he was younger he thought he wanted the world, too. How he got the world, but lost it at the same time. They missed her. They had a right to. Karen stopped being angry about that a long time ago. Her father sometimes gets frustrated, though. He doesn’t always know how to handle little discussions, and now there’s all this talk about running away.
“Daddy it’s not running away if you know where I’m going! I won’t be missing. I just won’t be here.”
“Karen, we’re not talking about this right now.”
“We NEVER talk about it. We never talk about anything! Can you just hear me out?”
Enter cookie dough ice cream. Two spoons. Cookie dough was her mother’s favorite.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I’m just..suffocating. I feel like I’m done here. There’s nothing for me here anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I love this place. I love my friends. I love you. But I feel so restricted. It doesn’t feel like home.”
Her father was looking straight forward. He was hearing her, but he was somewhere else.
“Karen, you’re just like your mother. A free spirit. A wanderer. Not all those who wander…”
“are lost,” they said together.
“I’ll think about it,” he said after another spoonful. “But I’ll need time, Karen. And I’m not making any promises, so stop planning what you’re going to pack.”
“How’d he know?” She thought.
She talked to a close friend about it as well. He took her seriously, and seemed sincere about wanting to accompany her. A few months after she mentioned it they were discussing life after college and he said, “I definitely need to get out of here. Still thinking about California?”
There she went with that smile of hers.
He remembered. He remembered when no one else even took her seriously. That meant more to Karen than anything right now.
The two most helpful people in this situation were the two most unrelated. Her coworker, who wasn’t even sure how to spell her last name, and her best friend, who could fill him in on everything else he would need to know about Karen. One didn’t take her seriously, the other did. Both of them supported and encouraged her, and that’s all she really needed. Doesn’t that pretty much go for the rest of the world?