Living alone.

Today I had a weird preview of what it might be like to live on my own.

My parents came to visit because yesterday was my birthday and there was a driving ban on for most of the day and people couldn’t come tell me how awesome it is that I’m no longer twenty seven.  Today they came to see me and take me out for a meal.  My sister and her family already had plans to go up to Maine for the day and therefore weren’t around to join in the fun and distract the grandparents from their youngest child.

It was nice.  I was a little surprised.  I’ve eaten dinner with just my parents many times, but it was weirdly nice to have a nice meal at a restaurant with just the three of us.  We could talk about things without interruption, there was no obligation to divide our attentions between siblings and grandbabies, we could just focus on each other, our meal, and talk.  (Mostly we talked about my previous post and started debating Ms. Murphy’s stance versus the teachers having the ability to choose what books to have their students read; and Mom told me a story about one of my sisters having to read In Cold Blood for her junior year American Studies course and it freaking her out so much she slept in bed with our mother.)  It was really nice to have an adult conversation with my parents while celebrating my birthday.

Afterwards we went back to my sister’s house for tea and cake and we kept chatting about things.  I had to play hostess since I live here and they don’t and I know where things are.  But even that was nice.  It was nice to feel like I had command of a space (even if it’s not mine and it was only temporary).  I thought to myself: “I could have my parents over like this if I had a place of my own and it would be awesome!”

Bottom line: I had a strange opportunity to know what it would be like to have a place of my own and I really liked it.  Goal: set.

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