After 3 years in University, I moved back home. This event will go down in my history book as one of the more..... bittersweet experiences of my life. Let me elaborate...
The last thing I ever wanted was to move back home, I mean, think about it. I had 3 years of total independance, great friends and a realitively busy life; I loved it. Then I came home to people I didnt really know because of years of seperation, no independance and a social life that amounted to trips to town to do errands for my mom; yippee.
I don't have bills to pay and my mom and I have become really close. My mom has always been an incredible homemaker. she's not very affectionate; in fact, because I am too affectionate, I often have to beg her for any kind of physical affection, but when it comes to cooking for you and making sure you have everything you need, she often goes overboard. She loves like a man; she won't tell you that she loves you or give you hugs and kisses for no reason, but you will always have seconds when she cooks and you'll never want for anything.
Every time mom shows her love, I'm reminded of a much younger version of myself. When I was a kid, I would never go to a place I didnt know without my mom. not because I was a mommy's girl but because when she was there, i knew that everything was going to be alright. I would never get lost (although she did actually lose me twice!), nor would I be hungry or cold if she was there.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that if I am half the woman and mother my mom is, I will know that I have arrived.