Sparkles of frost on the blades of grass. The taste of cherry coke. Simple home-cooked meals. The mundane kept reminding me of home, of family. It was something I missed, even after my fifth semester at college. You would think that it got easier with age. That it would go away as life got busier. Everything would flash by and home would be right there in a second. Droughts of happiness, of relaxation, of care, of calmness; I thought home would fix it all. It is only a different font of problems that I took a pause on.
I come home to different parents, different dynamics between them and my younger siblings. I feel happy for them, but a small voice inside me wonders. It understands that people change. It also understands that they always had the capacity to be the parents I needed when I was growing up.
It was only through the work that I've done and the issues I brought up that they were able to learn. Why didn't they learn faster and sooner though? Was I not enough to change for? To be cared for? To notice? Why are they getting the treatment that I wanted? Why are they truly engaged and interested in them and not me? I'm happy, truly, that my siblings get a better version; that happiness can pair with bitterness too.
Sparkles on the grass become raindrops instead of frost. Cherry coke gets watered down. Home-cooked meals turn into takeout boxes. I looked for an escape from college life and ended up romanticizing home, ultimately leading me to disappointment. It's only after that I realize I will miss whatever I don't have.
Now, my parents don't have high expectations put on me. "Just be happy," they say. I understand the sentiment, but then what was I sacrificing all of my life for? I've worked this far and it feels like I'm being given up on. That they saw what it did to me and they're now backtracking.
They're my parents. They're my family. I will always love them, and I know I will always go back to them. At what cost though?
I don't even know what I want out of this. Do I want them to treat me the same or differently? Maybe I just want to be? To be seen? I don't know. Either way feels like I'm not enough. It feels like the goalpost they continuously move has been transported miles away. I cannot keep up anymore. There are standards but only subliminally.
I miss my home, but I cannot stand it. I feel relief that my parents changed, but I feel jealous of my siblings too. I want less pressure on me but enough to feel like I'm not being given up on. I want to make them proud and their sacrifices worth it, but I know I do not live for them. There is both. I do not like it though.
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