Back with the ‘rents
Hubby texted me yesterday that he’ll be coming home late because he had to finish something at work. Concerned about me being alone in the apartment while he’s still in the office, he told me to stay a while with my parents, who lived just nearby.
It was pretty surreal coming home to my old home, even though it’s just been two months. Now, I don’t just open the gate, I knock before entering. My parents don’t usually open the doors for me when I get home, but on rare occasions that I drop by after I got married, they’d rush to the door to open it.
Yesterday, they would so enthusiastically call me to eat dinner with them (when in fact, before heading home, I grabbed some McDonalds so they wouldn’t have to give me a free meal), which took three sweet hollers before I acceeded. My dad would start discussions with me, which was pretty odd because he isn’t like that with us sibs, really. My grandma would tell me to get some rest and sleep with her in her room. And when hubby called to say that he’d have to spend the rest of the night in the office, my mom prepared a bed with pillowcases that smelled fresh from the laundry. I even had a lengthy conversation with my big little brother about music and stuff (which we didn’t often do before) before going to bed.
When I woke up to return to the apartment (because hubby just got home) early this morning, my mom told me to eat the breakfast she prepared. And my dad escorted me to the gate — even closed it for me.
I don’t know, maybe they just miss me. Well, I miss them, too. Maybe because I was the first in the family to get married and the first one to leave the nest after almost three decades. I guess it will just take some time for us to adjust.
Funny, I already feel nostalgic when I see our house, the one I used to call home.
Maybe one day, when I get kids of my own, I’ll know exactly how it feels like.