Across the street

A long time ago, my Mom sternly told me since I was too young that I was not to cross the main street several blocks away unless I was led across the street by a trusted adult. As a rule of thumb, I took my mother's warnings seriously.

One day, I really wanted to visit the small arcade at the nearby bowling alley. The trouble with this thought is that it was across the main street. I decided to make a break for it one day. I rode my bike down my residential avenue, then approached the busy road. I waited for the light to changed, sprinted across the main broadway on my bike, then continued double-time to the confines of the bowling alley and arcade.

I sprinted not only for my safety, but because I was terrified. I was terrified of being alone across the street and also of disobeying my mother's orders. I had a feeling of extreme paranoia that someone was watching me. I envisioned someone I knew, even an acquaintance of my mother would come up to me and find me out. That never happened though.

My anxiety got to be too much and I didn't stay long -- not more than 20 minutes. I got on my bicycle and rode back to my house as quickly as I made my original way. I was relieved to come home, but also had a feeling of shame.

I am wound too tight.