Inspired by Danielle Steel's Wanderlust
wander, wander,
wandering,
meandering,
the urge to roam,
to dance,
to fly,
to be,
the search for free,
the need to see
to go
to find
to search
to do,
my thirsts
so easily quenched
so close to home
and yours so grand,
so elegant,
so marvelous,
climbing mountaintops
and elephants
and tiger hunts
and dancing bears
and far off stars
and trips to mars
and all of it
so wild,
so vast,
so free,
as you go wander,
wander,
wandering,
and then the best
part of all
when, statisfied,
complete,
and happy now,
you wander
slowly
home
to me.
-From the novel Wanderlust, by Danielle Steel
Autumn Drissle wouldn't be, what you would call, strikingly beautiful. She could be some-what pretty if she allowed herself to be. But the pony-tail that her hair was always in didn't accent her features all that much, and the jeans and T-shirts that she wore didn't compliment the figure that she had but never showed. She rarely wore make-up, except on important occasions, and even then it was very little.
Autumn wasn't like most "rich girls" that you would come across. She rarely bought things for herself, always feeling guilty. Every time reach to buy something that was expensive and not very practical, which she rarely did, the image that she saw on television specials of starving children in foreign countries would come back to her memory. That usually helped her put the item back onto the store's shelf.
She lived with her grandfather in his large estate, since her parents had died in a tragic plane wreck when she was 5 years old. Now at the age of 23 she didn't even think of leaving her grandfather. He was getting older, and more feeble, and he needed her to help take care of him. They had hired-help, but Autumn knew that he felt more comfortable with her - his granddaughter - tending to him... even if Mr. Drissle wouldn't admit to it.
Everyone that Autumn was raised around taught her that women, who didn't have to work for a living, such as herself, shouldn't. But Autumn felt differently. She wanted nothing more than to pursue her dreams and fantasies. She was definately a dreamer... a wanderer...
Chapter 1...
Autumn Drissle came down to dinner five minutes later than usual, and sat down in the chair across the table from her grandfather. "Good evening, Poppa."
Max, Autumn's grand-dad, looked at her with an amused look, "Oh, Autumn dear, running late this evening, are we?"
She looked over at him sheepishly, "I was reading... and I lost track of time."
"Reading those 'adventure' books, I presume? The ones that only fill your head with the nonsense that a young girl like yourself doesn't need crowding her mind."
"I'm not a young girl, I'm a woman now, and you need to start realizing that. Besides... you don't give me anything else to fill my mind with."
"Read some of my political books. I've told you countless times before that you need to start getting more interested in politics. And about you being a woman... I know that, Autumn, but I don't have much more time here on earth... humor me and let me think of you as the little girl that used to climb into my lap and ask me to read her a story."
Autumn sighed, "I know, grandfather. I'm sorry. I've been acting selfish, I suppose. It's just that politics don't interest me! And like you just said... you used to have no problem reading me books filled with adventure."
"You were five years old then, Autumn!" Max spoke firmly.
"Grandfather," Autumn sighed, sounding upset. "There is nothing wrong with having dreams... father and mother had dreams and-"
"And look where that got them!"
"I'm not hungry anymore," she pushed her seat from the table and stood, walking briskly towards her wing of the house.
Autumn climbed her staircase and walked into her bedroom, shutting her door for the night.
Chapter 2...
She counts out all her money In the taxi on her way to meet her plane Stares hopeful out the window At the workers fighting through the pouring rain And she's searching through the stations For an unfamiliar song And she's thinking 'bout the places That she knows she still belongs She smiles the secret smile That shows she knows exactly how to carry on
So run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run Baby, run So run, baby, run, baby, run, baby, run Baby, run From their old familiar faces And their old familiar ways To the comfort of the strangers Slipping out before they say 'so long' Baby loves to run...
-Run, Baby, Run; by Sheryl Crow (CD: Tuesday Night Music Club)
As Autumn packed her last bag, she stared at a picture of her and her grandfather when she was younger, before her gaze shifted to a picture of her with her parents. She took a deep breath, willing back the tears, as she grabbed the two frames and stuffed them in-between her clothes.
"I'm doing this for you, daddy," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Papa," her thoughts drifted to her grandfather. She felt horrible - she didn't want to leave him - but she had to get out of there. She had to do something for her herself, for once, or for her parents at least.
Autumn slipped on a pair of winter gloves, adjusted her matching snow cap on her head, and grabbed her bags, heading down the stairs, quietly. As she neared the door, she suddenly felt a bundle of regret building up in her stomach. She couldn't just leave - her grandfather would be worried about her. She found a piece of paper and a pen and jotted a quick note, so he would know that she was okay.
Grabbing her bags again, she opened the door, feeling the cold New York weather hit her face, fiercly.
"Lord, help me," she whispered, walking strongly to the taxi that she had called 15 minutes before. She looked like a determined young woman, but inside she was scared to death.
