I woke up early to workout and then AB and I sat around and caught up. Around noon we realized that we should probably be working on my room and I should probably be packing, so we went up to my room and moved some things out, moved other things around and bought a desk. I packed for a bit and then went up to do some last minute shopping and pick up some CD’s from Justin. When I came back, AB and I fussed with the room some more and I finished packing.
We had pizza for dinner – traditionally a Friday night thing, but I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted more. We sat on the couch drinking home-brewed beer and eating Round Table, chatting away so easily.
I was glad for those moments. I felt like we were all so busy that we hadn’t gotten any quality time together. People have been skeptical, or even slightly judgmental, when I tell them that I’m going to live at home when I come back for good. I’m aware of how different my parents and I are, and I’m aware of the conflicts that will most likely arise and that parents and children tend to love each other more when they don’t live together after a certain age. I have my concerns of course, but I think that we can make it work. And even if it turns out to be the worst idea ever, we’ll all have learned something from it. And doubtfully the lesson learned will be that we never want to see each other again.