After little more than six months I was going to see my parents again. On my familiar ground, but for them no more than a holiday visit. And just like with my boyfriend’s first visit, I didn’t know how to feel about having familiar elements from a shared life show up in the space that was only mine (and a few thousands of Canadians, but when do they count?). It wasn’t nerves or a lack of wanting to see them, I just couldn’t imagine them in this picture.
Luckily our band was still strong, and my attempt at tourist-guiding them through Ottawa (well, I even managed to show them some not food related things) didn’t go that badly, I think. I was surprised with how easily they fit into this narrative. Just parents coming over to see if everything’s okay, to discover your new place. And because I was the one with a clue here (about this city), I didn’t completely slipped back into the daughter role, but it was pretty much three adults hanging out together.
Together we did/visited new things and familiar things, and like that it makes this entire situation feel more real yet again. Yes, I am in Canada by myself (for how long it’ll last), my parents have the proof, they support me. That also means that the goodbye after five days was surprisingly hurting. We will see each other again soon, very probably, we got through six months without seeing each other, so why the tears?
Goodbyes are just never easy when it’s a loved one, I guess. Yesterday I left them in Montreal and after a week of seeing each other every day for several hours in a row, it feels a bit stunted. But I have to go back to work again, they fly back home soon, and everything will be ordinary again.
I guess it’s better to feel that way than not care at all. I knew that before, but I’ll still make it my first life’s lesson after my thirtieth birthday.