If you’re an avid follower of this humble blog, then you are no doubt very disappointed. After a well-meaning promise to be more open and consistent with my writing, I went on an unannounced 6-month hiatus — power move. In the midst of a panny, my vacation from responsibility was wholly warranted, so I don’t feel too bad for my behaviour, nor will I accept any blame. For context, this is my second post. After promising my imaginary readers — but mostly myself — that I would embark on my writer’s journey with more vigour, and consistency, I took the aforementioned break.
Inspiration doesn’t come easily to me; it rarely strikes. More accurately I’d say it gently knocks, sheepishly asking for permission to intrude on one of my many distractions. This time it being was back at home that triggered the urge to get back in the saddle.
Staying at home is always a confusing experience. These are the people who raised me; they’re titans, angels, far beyond the range of ordinary human beings. I’ve always known that they felt the same way about me, but my trips back home no longer seem like the pilgrimage they used to be.
There is no fanfare, no airport pick and pandemic notwithstanding, no unrestrained hugs. While we never the type of family to sit around the dinner table and wax lyrical about the highs and lows of our respective days, our familial conversations has reached an all-time low. Most nights, everyone keeps to themselves. When two or more people happen to be in the same room together, everyone focuses on their phone or computer. And what an abundance of those there are.
More than clothes or jewellery or nice rooms reserved for Christmas lunch and highly regarded relatives, the most apparent marker of my parent’s success is the sheer number of screens in the house. On more than one occasion, I have seen multiple laptops lying unused in the kitchen. Could you imagine walking into your friend’s modest one-bedroom apartment and seeing two idle laptops? Of course not. The idea of such a valuable asset so close to unnecessary danger is laughable to me and should be to anyone else. But, my parents are a different breed and seem to be unphased by pedestrian preoccupations.
They live a life far beyond mine; materially there is no question, but it’s their literal laid-back approach to everything that is so aspirational. They couldn’t be bothered to make a fuss about their second son coming home because not making a fuss has become their brand. And to be honest, it’s what I think I admire the most about them; my angels in sweatpants, my titans taking a nap.
