Well before the sun roused from slumber my parents had kissed me goodbye – morning breath and all –and were on the road home. I’m not stranger to goodbye, but for the most part I’m the one that is usually saying it. I think that is why I’m taking their departure so hard.

I’ve never been prone to homesickness – not acutely anyway. I enjoy my family but wherever I’m headed usually grabs my hand and drags me along to experience newness and excitement that shelters me from dwelling on their absence.

But my apartment felt empty this morning with the last subtle signs of my mom’s tidying up and my dad’s hammer handiwork on my walls. All that was left was the neatly made bed and a cute thank you note tucked into the frame on my dresser.

More than anyplace, the bay area has made being single comfortable. I often have plans and options for things to do that aren’t just something to do but something interesting that I want to do. But having bodies at home to greet me…having bodies that love me at home to greet me…is a lovely feeling. One I took for granted when I lived at home.

My folks joked with me last night that they were getting out of my space before they work out their welcome. I think a tiny part of them might believe a tiny part of that is true. But the truth is I enjoyed having them here, they more than any place, are my home.

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