Welcome Home, Son! When Are You Leaving??
Our twenty-five-year-old son moved back home this week. The lease on the house he’s been sharing with four others has run out. Their little group has been together for seven years. A bit like a rock band, there’s been a few changes of personnel and a few dramas, but they’ve kept on the road. At this time of the year, they normally renew their lease or, if that’s not an option, move to another property. Things are different this time. One of the four is leaving the area to take up a job offer, another is moving in with his girlfriend, and a third is going traveling. The band is breaking up, in other words. Our son is thinking about buying his own place, so he’s back with us while he reviews his options. His mother and I are delighted he’s home, right? Cue long silence and tumbleweed blowing down the street…
Two miles
Let’s be clear. We love our son to bits and want only the best for him. It’s just that we think it’s best for him if we love him to bits from a distance of roughly two miles. That’s how far he’s been living from us in a series of shared houses since he left home. He hasn’t been a stranger in that time, of course. During the pandemic lockdown, he chose to hunker down with us for an extended period. More typically, he stays over maybe one night a week or whenever it suits him. What I’m saying is, that his old room has always been…
