Because that’s how I roll.

Ask me anything

Totally :) As we are definitely soulmates! ^_^

Ask me anything

I doubt it………

Ask me anything

<3 <3

Ask me anything

fmylife:

Today, I was woken up because the police were pounding on my door, and saying I am under arrest for stealing road signs. My friends went drinking last night and thought it would be funny to steal seventeen stop signs, four bus stop signs, and two children crossing signs then plant them on my front lawn. FML

My fifteen-year-old son has just returned from abroad with a dozen rolls of exposed film and several hundred dollars in unused traveler’s checks. His blue bag lies on the hall floor where he dropped in, about four short steps into the house. Last night he slept in Paris, and the twenty nights before that in various beds in England and Scotland, but evidently he postponed as much sleep as he could; after he walked in and said hello and how much he’d missed home, his electrical system suddenly switched off, and he headed half-unconscious for his bed, where I imagine he may break his old record of sixteen hours. I don’t think I’ll sleep for a while. This household has been in a state of excitement over the trip since weeks before it began, when we said, “In one month, you’ll be in London! Imagine!” It was his first trip overseas, so we bought him travel books and a cassette tape of useful French phrases, made a list of people to visit, and advised him on clothing and other things. At the department store where we went to buy him a suitcase, he looked at a few and headed for the bags and knapsacks. He said that suitcases were for old people. I am only in my forties, though, and I pointed out that a suitcase keeps your things — a jacket, for example — neat and tidy. He said he wasn’t taking a jacket. The voice of my mother spoke through me. “Don’t you want to look nice?” I said, but he just turned away. During his trip, he called home three times: from London, from Paris, and from a town named Ullapool in Scotland. “It’s like no place in America, Dad,” he reported excitedly. He hiked through flocks of Scottish sheep and climbed a mountain in a heavy rainstorm. In a village near Ullapool, a man spoke to him in the unfamiliar local language, and, too polite to interrupt, my son listened to him for ten or fifteen minutes, trying to nod in the right places. The French he learned from the cassette was of little use in Paris; the people he spoke to shook their heads and walked on. I myself have never been outside the United States, except twice to Canada. When I was eighteen, a friend and I made a list of experiences we intended to have before we reached twenty-one, which included hitchhiking to the West Coast, learning to play the guitar, and going to Europe. I’ve done none of them. When my son phoned, I sat down and leaned forward, eager to catch every word. I have never listened on the telephone so intently and with so much pleasure as I did those three times. It was wonderful and moving to hear news from him. To me, he was the first man to land on the moon; I knew that I had no advice to give him and that what I had already given was probably not much help. The money that he’d left on the hall table — almost half the amount I sent him off with — is certainly evidence of that. Youth travels light. No suitcase, no jacket, not much language, and not much money spent — and yet he went where he wanted to go, did what he wanted to do, and came back safely. I sit here amazed. The night when your child returns with dust on his shoes from a country you’ve never seen is a night that you wish would last for a week.

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