Home

It's been a year since my return to the nest.

It's been a great year. There has been heartache and learning. There's been growth; I've found strength I didn't even know I had.  I got the chance to get closer to my parents, especially to develop a better relationship with my Dad.

The thing with moving home is that it's never the same…you're not the same. I came home older, with my feet wet with the waters of the world. I came home having lived on my own for 5 years. I came home an independent woman trying to transition back into my parent's house, living under their roof with their rules. They were very open and understanding of the fact that I was an adult coming home and they treated me that way. I know my dad especially tried really hard to not use his "dad voice" or tell me what to do. It took some adjustment but I settled in pretty quickly and I feel that I was respectful and they in turn were too.

 Moving out is bitter sweet. As excited as I am to be out on my own again, I'm sort of sad to leave. I've loved having my parents there for me after a bad day. I've loved dancing and jumping around the kitchen with my mom when we're excited about things. I've loved the quality one on one time with my dad that I never really had before. I love Bella. I love that every morning she butts her head against my door and barges in, thumping her tail against my bed, and attempting to lick my face. I love the daily reminder that two people love me unconditionally, that they believe in me, and their support is never ending. 

I'm moving close enough that I'll continue to go to the church we all go to and have Sunday lunch together. I'm sure I'll need my Bella fix too. And if it's been too long since I've seen them they can always entice me to come over with schnitzel night!

So thank you mom and dad…and I'm keeping my key. But I'll call before I come over just in case it becomes a clothing optional house once I leave.

The love of a family is life's greatest blessing