Sneaking Out

When I was a child, I'd sneak out at night. It was monumentally stupid, not only because I was young and alone but also because I'd had problems breathing the cooler air.

My parents told me that I'd been rushed to the hospital once when I was three because I'd been gasping. I had stopped breathing in the car on the way and my mother had do rescue breathing for me. It worked and I was able to breathe again on my own before my father pulled in to the emergency lane at the hospital. From then on, I was kept inside at night. I remember being mad that I couldn't stay out past nightfall on Halloween and the Fourth of July. (Fireworks aren't as fun to watch through an attic window.)

So for me, there was always a fascination with the night. I'd sit and watch the moon and stars through the window while my mother and sister slept and my father was at work. When I was seven, after my sister ran away, I started to leave the house and venture into the dark.

It took a long time for me to work up the courage to leave the yard. At first, I was too scared to do more than walk slowly. Even though I would carry my inhaler with me, I still ran the risk of being away from home, gasping for air in the middle of nowhere with no one around to help me. But, the call of the night was too strong.

As time went on, I traveled further from my home. I started running along the winding country roads, jumping over the ditches and into the woods. My favorite nights were when there was moonlight. I LOVED the moon, and still do. I became grateful to it for all that it gave me. The moon was my inspiration. It was my companion and guide. Nothing could touch me, nothing could hurt me and I wasn't alone because there it there. I was free to explore to my heart's content. I was free to be wild and crazy.

Do you want to know something? Through all of the times and the years that I wandered out into the darkness alone, I never had a single asthma attack. I still consider that another gift of the moonlight.