I went to boarding school at the age of 6. I joke about the fact that I haven’t lived at home since I was 5. After school I went to university and lived alone for a while and then with friends. Then I moved to the city and moved in with my ex husband. After the divorce I lived alone again.
I love my family dearly and I would love to see them daily. There is nothing as special and warm as a hug from your mum at the end of the day or laughing at dad jokes. Spending time around the dinner table and watching tv. Its the little things that make family special.
I only get that on weekends and on the holidays.
But now with A’s family I get it all the time.
So many of my friends ask if it isn’t weird that he lives at home still, and I have to hang out with his parents all the time. Well, the answer is a definite No. Strangely, I love it.
I love the warmth, I love the home cooked meals and the way his mom invites me for tea in the afternoons. His dads stories and the way the family bickers every now and then. Its warm and its homely and I spend 5-6 nights a week there, so much time that its started to feel like home.
