being home again

Ever since my surgery on Tuesday I have been staying with my parents. I moved out of their house when I left for college and only came back for a few months when I was 19, so I've pretty much been gone for the last decade or so. In fact, this is the most time I've spent with them since I move into my first apartment way back in 2002. The circumstances of being back home weren't great. I'm having a lot of trouble getting around and it's 100 degrees outside. But despite the reasons behind me being here, I can honestly say it feels so good to be home again.

My dad is the single most amazing man I've ever met in my life. For all of the teasing (and tormenting, kidding, nagging, belittling and bothering) he's been doing he has also been taking the best care of me. Every single day I've been here has come with the most delicious meals. Seriously. Spaghetti, fresh eggs and bacon and bread, grilled chicken, more eggs, more fresh bread, meatloaf and then today? Eggs, toast, bacon, grilled chicken, corn and salad, homemade pizza. Seriously. It's okay to be jealous because he's been fantastic.

And my mom. Oh, my mother. To say we butt heads a lot is such an understatement. We are so similar and so different that being under the same roof was a trying time for us both. I didn't expect things to go so well with my return, but she's been wonderful. I tease my mom that she's lacking a maternal instinct, but she's found it. My mother is sixty years old and she helped me bathe and dress. Her love (after all of these years) warms my little black heart.

I'm excited about going home. I miss my crappy little house and god do I miss seeing my husband. But knowing that I could come back home and depend on my parents for awhile is such a good feeling. I'm a damn lucky kid. Even at twenty-eight years old.