When I was about 9, my dad was hiking with my mom and some friends. He's a typical show-off kind of male, so he swung on a vine across a ravine. He proceeded to do this several times...one time too many, to be exact. His last ride across the ravine resulted in a broken vine, a 30' fall, and a load of injuries. He broke his back and both his ankles, but was very lucky to be alive. Since they were in the middle of nowhere, he had to walk about a mile out of the woods with a big stick and a big buddy as his only help. He spent the next six months in a hospital bed located in our cramped living room.
When he was well and a full inch shorter, he had to prove to himself that he was just as good as new. He built a new living room on the back of our house that was about half the size of the existing house. We needed more room and I guess he was sick of being stuck in that tiny front room with the dark green carpeting.
Anyhow, that's just the back story. I was a pretty bad sleepwalker at this point in my life. One night, I got out of bed, walked through the house and into the construction area. There were tools everywhere, drop cloths, and plastic door coverings. The steps hadn't been built yet, so there was a ladder outside the new door that was the temporary entrance to our house. Somehow, I made it through all that unscathed. I walked over to my aunt's house, two lots away. It's where my cousins lived and we were raised like siblings. I knocked on the door, which woke me up. I remember standing on her porch, wondering where I was. At that moment, I heard both of my parents shouting my name. I turned around to see them running through the yard. I guess I realized what happened at that point because I started crying.
The next morning, my mom found a note on the kitchen counter. It said:
Going to Aunt Nan'sAt least I was kind enough to tell her where I was going! The funny thing is that I made a mistake on the note and corrected it. Only I would correct a spelling error while asleep. My mom kept the note on her dresser mirror for years.
After that event, my mom put a motion alarm on my bedroom door. It shrieked and screamed if moved. One night, I had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. I was paranoid to open my door because of how loud the alarm was. My mom found me standing in my room, crying and trying not to pee myself. I think she ditched the alarm after that.
It's always been a fear of mine that one of my kids would leave the house at night. Son #1 was a sleepwalker for a while, but it only lasted about a year. Now after reading this story, I think I'm going to be nervous for a while at night!