I am going home tomorrow. My partner, along with his brother in their car, is dropping me at my parents’ house for a week’s stay. I can’t believe it has been a year since I last went home. I don’t know if it is because I haven’t seen them in such a long time that I don’t want to be with them. This feeling is nothing new though. I can recollect two instances when I wanted to be with them but it is just the two.
I do not want to encounter any of my other family friends or relatives for whom I will have to put a fake smile and answer as if my life is great. I do not want to smile and portray myself as a strong daughter because the truth is I am weak and vulnerable, and I am handling way too many things than I possibly can. I do not want them to tell me what is right, what they want me to do, what a mistake I am, who I am or something similar which is emotionally burdening.
I am taking a lot of books with me as it gives me a hope of escaping from all the conversations I might have to make. I do not yearn for any food or comfort that the home might give me. I just want to be myself without having to hide and worry about others. I know myself better and I want to live my life on my own terms but somehow I still shake like a little girl when my parents ask me questions.
Why am I still going home? Because my parents are old and my mom is lonely. May be I can make their life a little happier. It is just a once-in-a-year event. May be I can do that for them!