This was originally published on Salynda’s personal blog “Books, Coffee, and Pizza.”
My mom was going to drive up to visit me this weekend. We were going to go to my church, stay in my dorm, and attempt snowshoeing, weather permitting. And then she called me.
“I just don’t think it’s going to work this weekend,” she said over the phone.
“Yeah,” I said. “We would have been rushed anyway.”
We hung up the phone with the promise to schedule another weekend soon. Sigh.
I just got back from winter break which I spent the entirety of at home: piecing together a quilt for my friend, practicing my watercolor skills, and watching copious amounts of Dr Quinn: Medicine Woman. Why should I be disappointed when someone I just spent several weeks with can’t make it up for the weekend? Maybe it’s because in college, a world of constantly shifting friendships, my parents are two of the few things that have stayed the same.
However true that may be, I think it’s more than that. Over the past few years, my parents have become two of my closest friends. They talk to me about stuff; I talk to them about stuff. When I need help with a friend or a professional situation, I call up my mom or dad. When either of them needs something proofread for their small businesses, they ask me. Throw into the mix many long car rides and lots of deep conversations about politics, global warming, and my personal life, and you have a recipe for only one thing: the realization that my parents are people.
“What did you think they were before, Lindy?” you may ask. “Did you think they were fairies?”
I know saying it like that is a little weird. But before now, they were just parents, as steady as the rising and setting sun. They took me to church, Dad took me to dance classes, and Mom took me to piano lessons. They spanked me or took away privileges when I misbehaved. We would goof off around the supper table when we were all done eating. They were parents. Those were their jobs.
Now, I’m starting to see them in a totally new way. They have personalities, inner struggles, and faults. When I was having some trouble with a friend, Mom told me about a similar situation she had with one of her friends when she was my age and encouraged me with the fact that they are still friends today. My dad has told me more about his college days than I care to know.
And it’s great.
If possible, I think I love them better now than I used to. I can identify with them as individuals. Maybe this is all part of becoming an adult (yikes!), but it’s pretty great. I have gained two new friends whom I can trust with everything.
On the days leading up to Mom’s visit, all my friends asked me what I was up to that weekend. “My mom is coming up to visit,” I said. They just looked at me. I guess viewing your parents as your best friends is a little weird, but that’s okay. We’ve always been a weird family.