Luckily, I’m not an unemployed 30-year-old who needs to cut expenses at all cost and go back from being independent to dependent. Nope, but that doesn’t make it easier.
So I read this post on Huffington Post about moving back to the home where you grow up. So I shrugged at the similarities. So I wondered at the cons. So I am now thinking if whether I have made the right choice so far.
To tell you a bit of the background story, I was born in Jakarta, Indonesia, completing a family of five. I was the youngest of three girls. At 17, I went on a six-hour plane trip and studied Bachelor of Arts in Melbourne, Australia. Three years later, I got my degree. A month after that, I went home.
Working for nearly two months now and living in the same room where I have gone through my saddest, happiest, and craziest moments in High School are no easy feat. Many times I wish I am back in Melbourne – back with my friends who are still there to pursue Master’s degrees, to find employment, or to work. I wish I am having my coffee and my freedom. I wish I have that high level of privacy again.
But here I am, with my Mom telling me to go to bed after 10pm, and my Dad taking care of every transportation, accommodation, and financial stuff that I need. My Mom serves me breakfast every morning, lunch every afternoon, and dinner every night. My Dad makes me hot green tea and brings the cup to my room. He then goes downstairs after ten minutes to refill the cup with hot water again.
I have never done any laundry for four months now. I can count the times when I make the bed with my left hand. I don’t do dishes. I just bring the plates, cups, bowls, and spoons to the kitchen.
But I don’t have my coffee time anymore. When I say I want to grab a cup of coffee at Starbucks on my own for a couple of hours, my Mom raises her right eyebrow and gives me the look – what on earth are you doing, having coffee by yourself? Weekends are no longer spent on too much chatting with friends. They are spent with parents, going to the cinema and having lots of lunches and dinners.
I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing. My Mom says to her friend once, “Well, now my daughter is here and in a year’s time she’ll go back to pursue Master’s. The next time she goes back it will be with holding someone else’s hand. Now is the time.” Time for what? For savouring the time with her youngest daughter, I reckon.
You’ll always want the neighbour’s grass. But for the time being, I’ll enjoy being the only child at home, for the second time. Before life knocks on my door to continue my journey somewhere… South.
