Making It.
Home.
On my front porch, and crouch over to catch my breath for a minute. I had to be quick. Who knows how long until they realize I'm gone?
I stare down at the concrete steps. I remeber paving them. Our initials are still there.
DGR
DVR
DJR
6/19/99
All of our name's had started with a D. Dave George Rauster, Dawn Vivian Rauster, Derek James Rauster. I was 8 when we paved the steps. At least a part of my will stay with this house.
I whip my house key out of my pocket and jiggle it into the front door. I was half-expecting my mom and dad to pop out of the shadows and yell, "April Fools!"
Derek, you idiot, it's October.
I realize that I'm still on the clock and jolt up to my bedroom. I decide to pack my bag, unknown to where I really going to go. If I go to any of my friends' houses, their parents will have to rat me out and turn me in. I mean, it was the moral thing to do right?
Fumbling throught all of my stuff, I find my marching band bag. See? I'm not demonic or emo. I'm just a band geek. Lead snare if you were wondering.
I open my closet and drawers and stuff as many band t-shirts and jeans and underwear into the bag as possible.
This makes me think of the times in marching band. A friend of mine, Ron, is a small-built boy. We took the liberty of giving Ron a free ride by stuffing him inside the band bag and tossing him around. What? He can fit!
Of course, I cannot leave any of my favorite CDs. Stuff right in the band bag.
I turn. Of course, I'm facing my instruments, My pride and joys. There's no way the drum set can come. Neither could the keyboard. It was between the electric guitar, acoustic guitar, or the bass. I love them all but my acoustic is my baby. The first instrument I picked up. I couldn't leave it behind.
I throw my acoustic into it's taveling case and toss some picks in there. I figured I could make a few bucks by playing off the street.
Oh, boy. Cleveland. Cleveland STREETS. That fact just struck me. But there was no way I was going to an orphange.
I grab a photo album and stick it in my band bag along with my tab sheet, my writing journal, and some pens. That was it. Nothing else could fit in my bag. I stood there for a breife moment to think if I needed anything else.
Money. I had about $125 with me. I hope that lasts. Extra STUFF into the band bag. My cell phone was in my pocket and I quickly extra stuffed the charger into my bag also. Just in case I'm around an outlet. I see my bible and there's no way I'm leaving that here. I need all the strength I can get.
This was it. I zipped up my bag with all of my strength. I was really running out of time now.
I looked in my parents' bedroom. They weren't there of course. But I was half-hoping they would just be sleeping in their bed or sitting on the floor sorting through all of the coins they had collected in a big coffee can.
Ha. Yeah, right. They were gone for good.
I took one last breath of their familiar-scented bedroom and shut the door. Not like I wanted to.
I rush downstairs and take one last look of what I could see. My hand brushed up to my cross necklace that they had given me after I accepted. Ya know, Jesus. That was 3 years ago.
"Goodbye. I love you." I whisper almost to the house, but more to my parents. Maybe some part of them was still in this house?
I swing open the door and rethink of what I'm to do and where I'm going.
I'm running away.
I'm running away to the city of Cleveland.
Wow, Derek. You're REALLY smart.
I am NOT going to an orphanage.
I start sprinting down the street. Somewhat wadling from my heavy band bag and guitar.
Oh, crap. I looked at the time. 2:45. Where did the time go? Did they realize that I had fled? But right now I have to worry about something different. My neighbor friends walking home from school.
Not just my neighbor friends. My best friends.
Parker Tirtle and Mena Junesten.
I stare down at the concrete steps. I remeber paving them. Our initials are still there.
DGR
DVR
DJR
6/19/99
All of our name's had started with a D. Dave George Rauster, Dawn Vivian Rauster, Derek James Rauster. I was 8 when we paved the steps. At least a part of my will stay with this house.
I whip my house key out of my pocket and jiggle it into the front door. I was half-expecting my mom and dad to pop out of the shadows and yell, "April Fools!"
Derek, you idiot, it's October.
I realize that I'm still on the clock and jolt up to my bedroom. I decide to pack my bag, unknown to where I really going to go. If I go to any of my friends' houses, their parents will have to rat me out and turn me in. I mean, it was the moral thing to do right?
Fumbling throught all of my stuff, I find my marching band bag. See? I'm not demonic or emo. I'm just a band geek. Lead snare if you were wondering.
I open my closet and drawers and stuff as many band t-shirts and jeans and underwear into the bag as possible.
This makes me think of the times in marching band. A friend of mine, Ron, is a small-built boy. We took the liberty of giving Ron a free ride by stuffing him inside the band bag and tossing him around. What? He can fit!
Of course, I cannot leave any of my favorite CDs. Stuff right in the band bag.
I turn. Of course, I'm facing my instruments, My pride and joys. There's no way the drum set can come. Neither could the keyboard. It was between the electric guitar, acoustic guitar, or the bass. I love them all but my acoustic is my baby. The first instrument I picked up. I couldn't leave it behind.
I throw my acoustic into it's taveling case and toss some picks in there. I figured I could make a few bucks by playing off the street.
Oh, boy. Cleveland. Cleveland STREETS. That fact just struck me. But there was no way I was going to an orphange.
I grab a photo album and stick it in my band bag along with my tab sheet, my writing journal, and some pens. That was it. Nothing else could fit in my bag. I stood there for a breife moment to think if I needed anything else.
Money. I had about $125 with me. I hope that lasts. Extra STUFF into the band bag. My cell phone was in my pocket and I quickly extra stuffed the charger into my bag also. Just in case I'm around an outlet. I see my bible and there's no way I'm leaving that here. I need all the strength I can get.
This was it. I zipped up my bag with all of my strength. I was really running out of time now.
I looked in my parents' bedroom. They weren't there of course. But I was half-hoping they would just be sleeping in their bed or sitting on the floor sorting through all of the coins they had collected in a big coffee can.
Ha. Yeah, right. They were gone for good.
I took one last breath of their familiar-scented bedroom and shut the door. Not like I wanted to.
I rush downstairs and take one last look of what I could see. My hand brushed up to my cross necklace that they had given me after I accepted. Ya know, Jesus. That was 3 years ago.
"Goodbye. I love you." I whisper almost to the house, but more to my parents. Maybe some part of them was still in this house?
I swing open the door and rethink of what I'm to do and where I'm going.
I'm running away.
I'm running away to the city of Cleveland.
Wow, Derek. You're REALLY smart.
I am NOT going to an orphanage.
I start sprinting down the street. Somewhat wadling from my heavy band bag and guitar.
Oh, crap. I looked at the time. 2:45. Where did the time go? Did they realize that I had fled? But right now I have to worry about something different. My neighbor friends walking home from school.
Not just my neighbor friends. My best friends.
Parker Tirtle and Mena Junesten.