Is it wrong for a twenty-something to miss her parents?
I think I started feeling it last weekend, at the bridal shower. There were mothers present, and I realized a little more forcefully how infrequently I get to see my folks.
Last year was a bit of an aberration, as I had to make several trips to the island to do wedding-related tasks. Prior to that, well, they lived in Boston for a couple of years, so it wasn't too difficult to cart my tush across the river and have dinner.
I probably should have done it more often. Free food and free parent time is a pretty good deal, particularly when your mom is one of the world's best shoppers. (We make a pretty formidable team.)
Now, though, we don't have any plans to get down south in the foreseeable future. Between our honeymoon and wedding trips, we've used up our available time resources -- plus, let's be honest, the Low Country in, say, July is a bit overwhelmingly humid, particularly for wavy hair used to dry-air central, also known as Our Apartment in Maine.
All right, I'm gonna bite the bullet on my cool factor and put it right out there: I don't enjoy living so far away from my folks, or from Jim's, for that matter. Sure, I put on the brave face, all grown-up and married and what-not. Guess what, like-minded pretend adults?
Yeah, not so much.
I grew up with my maternal grandparents about a five-minute drive away. When we moved, that commute jumped to the ridiculously long twelve minutes or so. I grew up seeing great-aunts and -uncles and second cousins for all major holidays, and by major I include such grandiose excuses to barbecue as Flag Day.
As much as I always wanted to get out of St. Louis, then, I grew accustomed to being near family. Sure, a lot of the family lived in far-off (Indiana) exotic (New Jersey, Rhode Island) places, but we saw them fairly frequently, and the proximity of the St. Louis crew more than made up for any perceived drought. One paternal-side cousin even attended college in town, and as she started when I was a high school sophomore, she was a pretty big presence in my life.
Which reminds me: If you visit Washington University and attend a party at AEPi, don't drink the Blue. Trust me on this.
Anyway, it stands to reason that I don't like being family-free up here. No one is within "Oh, I'll just pop over in a few" distance; even the closest family is a two-hour drive, which requires planning and coordinating and generally rules out spur-of-the-moment dinners. I love the friends we have, but...well, hell. I miss my mommy.
I can only imagine this will get worse when we've got children, so here and now I'm making my plea to the patron saint of real estate: I don't care what it takes, just get me south before you get me pregnant.