My generation has been referred to as a lot of things, one of which are “boomerangs.” We graduated high school, left home for college, and then returned before moving out again to settle into the real world. I was what you could possibly call a “double-boomerang.” Here’s what I mean: <inhale> I graduated high school, went to SMU, returned home to save money while working, moved out to an apartment, after two years was hired at Southwest Airlines, decided I wanted to move closer to work, moved home until I found a place, found a place, and then moved back out <exhale>.
I consider myself to be extremely lucky that (a) my parents were nice enough to let me move back home not once, but twice (rent-free nonetheless) and (b) my parents are cool as hell. Besides some occasional rush hour traffic commuting to and from work, I thoroughly enjoyed living at home.
A little over two weeks ago I completed my journey as a “double-boomerang”: moving out of my parents’ house for what is likely the last time. Bittersweet feelings, I’d say, as I love seeing my family and I also love my home. But not much will change; we’ll just have more options of places to hang out.
My new condo is actually owned by my parents. They’ve had it for almost thirty years and lived in it for two years prior to getting married. So not only is the condo fantastic to live in, it’s got incredible sentimental value. I’ve heard plenty of stories about the condo, as my parents reminisce on the memories (good and bad!).
|My parents and me on my move-in day.|
Life has a funny way of balancing itself out. My move-in date was actually my parents' 28th year wedding anniversary. Pretty coincidental, but even more poetic.
|My Dad in the middle, with my Mom's friends on the day of their wedding shower in front of the condo.|
|My Mom in the middle.|