I always felt that I was actually an adult, even when I was a little boy.  I wanted nothing more than to be independent.  My first chance at independence came when I was 2 years old.  I was in the front yard with my mom when the phone rang.  She went in the house to answer it, and when she came out, I was gone.

We lived five doors down from the nearest cross street.  She looked up towards that street, just in time to see my blonde hair bouncing out of sight around the corner.  She ran after me, and brought me back home.

I have no idea where I thought I was going, but I knew I wanted to go.  It took me another 16 years before I actually moved out.