I am participating in the 8-Minute Memoir challenge from Ann Dee Ellis.
When I was at BYU - Idaho, I needed adventure. It's how I survived small town life as a city girl. I would wait until everyone was asleep, and I would grab my walkman (later my iPod) and go out on a late night adventure.
I remember sneaking onto the outdoor ice rink at 2 am one January night, my Converse shoes proving to be decent skates on the slick ice. I listened to a mix CD from a high school friend and slid around the ice in small circles, thinking about Illinois.
There was one particularly angry night in March when my roommates' laughter chased me out of the apartment. I grabbed the angriest CD in my collection and set out with my walkman in hand. My walk was so fast paced and heavy that the walkman bounced out of my hoodie pocket and broke in two on the sidewalk.
On another night, in June, I walked to a park alone and swung on the swings, gazing around at the blankets laid out by couples whose roommates didn't tolerate the late-night cuddling (or whatever else they were doing). I remember laughing silently to myself as the cops drove around the block in slow circles, shining spotlights on the couples to get them moving.
In my third year in Rexburg, I set out one February night, car keys in hand, and I drove until I wasn't sure where I was anymore. I parked on a small hill, sat on top of my car, and watched the sun rise while I absentmindedly wrote in my journal until my fingers froze.
I miss those small hours. They kept me sane.