Short answer? Early. Long answer? There were signs. Plenty of them. We just
chose to treat them as suggestions rather than warnings.
Before rooftops and antennas… There was my bedroom
window. Not for fresh air. Not for sunlight. This was my first “exit strategy.”
It started innocently enough. A little curiosity. A little creativity. Then it
turned into a system. Out the window. Onto the roof. Across to the tree. Shimmying
down like this was a completely normal life skill.
At the time, it felt smooth. Efficient. Almost
professional.
Getting out? Easy. Getting back in? That’s where
things got… educational. Turns out climbing down a tree in the dark is a
whole lot easier than climbing back up one—especially when you’re trying
to be quiet and not get caught. Let’s just say… There were a few nights when timing, balance, and a little luck all had to show up at once.
Once I discovered the roof, it became more than an
escape route. It became a laboratory. By “laboratory,” I mean a place where
perfectly reasonable kids asked completely unnecessary questions like: “How far
can you spit?” Which, naturally, evolved into peeing-for-distance contests. I was
bored and curious. When you’re dirt poor, you make your own fun. Sometimes fun
turned into experiments. Just not in ways anyone was asking for.
Speaking of experiments… Santa once brought me a science
kit. Beakers. Powders. Instructions. Now, a reasonable person would follow
those instructions. I took a more… comprehensive approach. One bowl. Every
chemical. No plan. “What happens if you mix all of it?” I don’t remember the
exact outcome. I do remember that was the exact moment my future in science
quietly backed out of the room and shut the door behind it. I did marry a brilliant scientist, though, a microbiologist by trade!
Looking back, the pattern is pretty clear. Curiosity?
High. Judgment? Still buffering.
Fear of consequences? Not really part of the program yet. And maybe that’s the
point.
You don’t just wake up one day:
- scaling
dorms
- walking
antennas
- sailing
into storms
- or
convincing your sister she just won a date with a teen heartthrob
You build towards it. One small decision at a time. One
“this seems fine” after another.
The warning signs were there. We just called it being kids.
Somehow, through all of it, the windows, the rooftops,
the experiments that definitely needed supervision, I made it through. Still
standing. Still tilted.
Which, when you really think about it… shouldn’t
surprise anyone. Because by the time Vol. 1 rolled around, I was already in prank-calling
destiny.
By Vol. 2, I was eating things I shouldn’t have been.
By Vol. 3, I stopped using doors altogether.
By Vol. 4, I was testing my luck against storms and
sharks.
And by Vol. 5… I was basically trying to fly. So yeah…
Vol. 6?
This wasn’t the beginning. This was the training
program. Somehow, against all early indicators, I graduated. No honors. No
degree. But a lifetime achievement award in:
“That Probably Shouldn’t Have Worked.”
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