gypsies and hoboes

Throughout my childhood, I dreamed of being a gypsy - wild and free! Gypsies always wore bright colors with lots of homemade accessories: scarves, bells, beads, vests, hats. They were artists who traveled together, made music and danced together every night, told original stories and laughed a lot, and wandered wherever their hearts led them. I have no idea if gypsies were really like this, but it is what I pictured. If I couldn't be a gypsy, I would be a hobo and travel alone. I wouldn't own anything but the pack I could carry on a stick and the clothes I wore. I would wash in lakes and sleep wherever I could find shelter each day in my travels. I would jump on trains and ride them until they stopped someplace interesting. I used to take long walks down the railroad tracks, collecting rocks, and daydreaming. Railroads were still used a lot back then, so there was always the added excitement of "what if a train comes while I am on this bridge?" I was probably 8 years old the first time I thought that, and I did not believe it would ever really happen to me - and it didn't. But I did experience a passing train with a steep hill on one side of the tracks and a river on the other. The train thundered past me less than 15 ft from where I perched on the side of that hill. It was exhilarating! (How old are you when things stop being exciting and become just plain stupid?) When I was about 5, I told mom I was going to run away. She helped me wrap a package of saltines in a handkerchief and tied it to a stick that I could carry over my shoulder. I went a block away to my favorite spot by the creek. When the saltines were gone and I was tired of picking flowers and playing in the creek, I returned home. I can't remember if a single word was said after that about my running away or my change of heart.