Home Sweet Home

I am home in Lebanon for a while to recharge and visit friends and family whom I have not seen in quite some time. Why is it I wonder, that when I have been away from home for a while, I tend to romanticize it? Is it simply a case of ‘absence making the heart grow fonder’, or is it more to do with the fact that when I return home, I seem to regress, rose tinted glasses firmly perched on the tip of my nose, and remember a simpler more carefree time in my life?

Now I don't know about you, but for my parents I seem to have stopped aging around the age of 14, and therefore they treat me as if I was still a teenager instead of being in my 30's; this, as I am sure you can imagine, can be somewhat annoying at times. What is really annoying, however, is that to some extent, I start to emulate my 14 year old self, which results in much sulking, sighing and general grumpiness, which just compounds the problem.

Case in point would be an evening last week; I was meeting a friend for a couple of drinks, but when a couple seemed poised to turn into more I was faced with a dilemma (observe the musings of my teenage mind if you will); firstly should I cut the evening short, after all I had told my parents I was only going out for a couple, or should I continue my evening knowing full well that this may cause some ructions at home? Eventually (my adult mind taking over) I plumped for what I considered to be middle ground; I called home and explained that I would be out later than expected. An equitable solution you would think, were it not for the fact that I spent the rest of the evening checking my watch and worrying that I was staying out too late, and was then subjected to my mothers over exaggerated nonchalance on the matter the next day.

So the question I am left with is the following, do we ever truly grow up, because as much as they may treat me as a child, in many ways I am guilty of enabling them. Oh my god, I just had a terrifying thought, maybe it’s just me…..