I love my parents- not in that "leave it to beaver" societally expected love, but a strangely authentic love. For two adults in their fifties, my parents are quite uncanny- my mom still uses cartoon voices when addressing my father or myself, and she has a special voice for the cats that is neither whiney nor annoying, which is usually how those things are. They have a fine love for food and the good life, whether good books, good movies, or nice clothes. (Not nice in the NYC sense of nice- no Gucci in my house- just nice looking things that might be dirt cheap). They are not overly affectionate people, and rather than saying, "we love you honey, we'll miss you" they do it through their actions, which in many ways is more puzzling, but more enigmatic and fun. My mom loves to shop, even if we don't buy much, and she loves going to the library. (we did that 3 times in 3 weeks- all in my favorite library in the world: the Los Angeles Public Library. 7 stories of literary deliciousness and architectural reminiscences) My dad loves to do 'cultural' things like go to museums, see artsy movies, go to bookstores, and get strange ethnic food, usually paired with a divine wine. I suppose I have a somewhat strange relationship with my parents. Most people my age aren't nearly as close with their 'rents as I am, but they were my best friends for so long that it's what we slip into whenever I return. For most of high school, I was a relatively miserable person with few friends and a very minimal social life, at least compared to my life during college. I rarely if ever went on on weekends or evenings, and did work all the time. Thus, my parents became my constant companions, for better or worse. However, I actually made friends in college, so it's always strange to return to my former life, since I have few if any friends still in pasadena. I whined about high school for so long, but I guess it ultimately made me have a good relationship with my parents, which I really appreciate now as I visit them more rarely. If I wasn't the lonely recluse before, I probably wouldn't have the same strange discourse with them, watching sesame street while cleaning, listening to george michael's "last christmas" for the 20 thousandth time with my mom, going for hour long walks every day. (by the way, all knowledge of 80's music stems from my momo's inability to remember that the eighties have come...and GONE. Tears for fears, anyone?)
The only catch is that after a while it's a little stifling- I long for privacy, for the opportunity to read a book without being asked what I'm reading, or listen to music without feeling guilty, or eat "weird" food. I could never live with my parents again, which some people do, because if I did, I would most certainly annihilate any chance of a social life. But it's always nice while it lasts, and it's always fun to return to the echoes of my past, and slip into a life I once inhabited.
I am so lucky though. I only hope that everyone else I know can cultivate positive relationships with their families before it's too late.
Currently listening to: well...lots. Fleet Foxes, Mates of State, M.I.A., and lots of other goodies.
No comments:
Post a Comment