Home Sweet Home?

Sayonara to Dorm Life
Well, I moved back in with my family after five years of quasi-independence. My dear, loving, practical, overprotective (did I mention I was the only girl?) dad suggested it for at least a year so that I could save up some money. After suffering near burnout in Tuscaloosa, familiar, homey Montgomery was a welcome change of scene. Moving back in with my family, eating home-cooked meals, sayonara to community bathrooms and being awakened at ungodly hours on late Friday and Saturday nights by (less than sober) gaggles of (underaged) girls (did I mention I was a Resident Assistant for 3 years?)—I was ready for home sweet home.

The Bros
I knew the day was coming, I just didn’t know when—the day that home sweet home would begin to have a saccharine aftertaste. Let me back up and say that my family is very close. I’m very thankful that all of us have been born again, and we all attend church together. I know that I’m blessed because I know that there are many families where that is not the case. I’m the oldest of three; I have two younger brothers, and we’re each two years apart. Middle bro has since moved out, but anyway, after a little bit of home sweet home, I felt like I was thrown back in time. Age did not weaken the incidence of sibling rivalry. I learned that it didn’t matter to my bros that I had graduated, that I’m a supposed grown-up with a grown-up job. Nope. I’m Big Sis. Big Sis is Big Sis no matter what. And they treated me that way. (Okay, that’s not to say that I never treated them like Little Bros. Old habits die hard.)

The ‘Rents
And then the ‘rents. ::sigh:: I love my folks with an undying love, but I have had my days when I just felt like making a public service announcement: “Dear listeners, this message is to inform you that Chantell Smith is 24 years old. You need not worry unduly about where she is going. Let’s be reasonable, listeners. Going to Panera Bread to get an iced chai with a friend is not going to put her on the road to perdition.” Not that my ‘rents think that getting an iced chai from Panera Bread leads to the road to perdition, but they might fool you with the way that they ask me about where I’m going sometimes.

But in the End . . .
Ah, well. I guess it’s just part of the deal. I mean, a year of rent-free living is a good thing. I’m planning to gather up all of my carefully set aside resources to move out in July. I love my family to death, but the experience of moving back in for a while has shown me that there comes a time when you gotta do it on your own. It’ll be just me . . . which is something I ponder over with mixed feelings, but in the end, I think I need to show myself that I can do it on my own.

Spanish word/phrase of the day: Hogar dulce hogar (oh-GAHR DOOL-say oh-GAHR) = home sweet home

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