I’m on a suburban retreat for the weekend–hiding out in my parents’ house and joining their in their normal routine: dinner out Friday night (to bed by 9pm sharp), errands Saturday, sunrise mass, breakfast at the “Star”, Sunday night pizza and a movie. It is a routine I have grown to love and won’t let them stray from when I come home. They always complain that they’re being lame by going to bed so early…but I secretly revel in the routine.
Today they finalized an offer for a new home. Perhaps my feelings will change on moving day, but my mom was surprised when I said that I didn’t have much of an emotional attachment to the present home–despite the fact that I’ve lived here since I was eight. That means birthday parties, sleep overs, prom pictures, and the majority of my Christmases have occurred under this roof.
But, I know that home is where the dinner table is–as long as they’re there with the bottle of wine and we’re all asleep before SNL comes on.