Today I began the process of moving my things from my parents' house to my new living situation. I'm actually moving into the house that I lived in from ages 11-17, with minor ventures after that. If you read my first Growing Pains post, you would know that I moved in with my parents last summer after my house went up for sale in order to avoid having to move during the school year. Shortly after that we discovered that my father had colon cancer. (He's going to be fine!!!) This has been a strange year full of chemotherapy, radiation, incontinence, tears, anger... and... laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.
Because I was living in their home, I was able to provide much more care than I would have being in my own place. I cooked for my parents, I was a sounding board for both of them, I attended as many doctor's appointments as I could, and I helped to provide a certain levity that most certainly wouldn't have been in the house had I not fallen on my financial face. Mom lost over 15 pounds. ( Not because I'm a bad cook... I'm a healthy cook!) Dad went from a 4x to a 2x... I wish I could take credit for it, but it was actually side effects from his surgery and the treatment. Cancer is a pain in the rear. And the colon.
In December some mail had been delivered to my parents' old house, and Chuck (not his real name), the "new" owner (he's lived there for 5 years) called Dad to let him know and find out if Dad wanted to pick up the mail or if he should just have it forwarded. Dad likes to visit our old house and see what Chuck has done to it, so he said he'd come and visit. When the visit occurred, Dad told Chuck that I had come to live with them but I didn't really like it. Chuck offered for me to come and live with him as his housemate. He wasn't going to be home much-- he's a trucker-- and he could use someone looking after the place. When Dad came home and presented this scenario to me I rebuffed it. He hadn't yet started chemotherapy and we didn't know how it would affect him-- or Mom-- and I said I thought I should stay, even though, yeah, I would much rather not be living in their home. (I was right-- this was a really good time to be home. But I've already talked about that.)
The months drew on. Dad went through his treatment and I made it through course selections, testing, and graduation, the holy trinity of work for the high school counselor in the Florida spring. When summer began, I had a couple of weeks of work left, in actual workdays and training. I started thinking seriously about Chuck's offer. How great it would be to have all that room! And still be minutes from work and near enough to Mom and Dad to give care and comfort-- and humor-- as needed. So, we all dropped by the house a couple of weeks ago. Chuck said he was still interested in the housemate situation-- mostly because he knew I was a good person and I wasn't going to be a bother-- and so we made an agreement. I dropped by the next day to work out the details.
Thus, today I began moving my things to my new place, which is actually my old room. Only it looks nothing like my room. As I told Chuck, it's my old room on steroids. The color isn't canary yellow, it's a warm beige, with lovely furniture, and a pool (a pool!) outside the window. Chuck has transformed our humble family home into a lovely residence that will be my place of retreat, renewal, and rejuvenation. I'm planning to live there at least through next year, unless life happens and there's a change of plans. It's an opportunity for me to be independent and have space, but still save money for future endeavors at the same time. I hope to begin traveling again, something which I had been forced to give up due to financial commitments. Next summer will surely find me abroad. I'm not quite sure yet where, but I'm excited about the prospects. I've given up travel plans this summer so that I can move into my new digs.
A major plus is that I will no longer have to explain when I go out on dates exactly why it is that I live with my parents. I would not consider dating a man who lived with his parents, unless there were extreme circumstances. And he would most certainly need to do his own laundry. (I do my own laundry and make my own bed.... but sometimes I have to admit, I let Mom put away my breakfast dishes.)
Tomorrow night I'll be sleeping in my new place, which was once my old place. Life has certainly come full circle.
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