I went home to old parents, an old dog, and an old granddad. Plus, I hurt my knee and was in crutches for two weeks, which made me feel old too. It is interesting to think that as my relationship with my parents enters a new phase, so does theirs with their parents. My parents feel static in time, like they were parents before I was born and were brought onto this earth solely to play that role. It’s easy to forget that they are new to this world too, never really stopped being kids just trying to figure out life as it unfolds. They were my age now when they had me, and I still feel like a baby. I have habits that I need to work very hard to break. I have wounds and insecurities that I find difficult to heal or shed. It feels like the spectrum of possibilities for “what my life will be” is starting to shrink, and I don’t even have kids yet. It is such a cliche, of course, that us children don’t think of our parents as people, all the while being terribly indignant at our parents’ complete lack of interest into our inner life, our personhood, beyond our identity as the child. What crystallized this for me though is witnessing my 65 year old dad interact with his 99 year old father, and seeing how badly he just wants his love and acceptance, how much they still struggle to speak to and understand one another. It’s sweet. Our relationship is changing too. We didn’t fight. When I hurt my knee, it was nice for us to play our roles: me needing care, them caring for me, a little while longer before they flip. I feel like I see them a little more fully these days, and of course, I realize how much I love them. Must remember to tell them that more, before it’s too late.