I remember when I used to angrily stomp to my car after an argument with my parents, screaming like a psychopath because I was so frustrated with–what I thought at the time was–their narrow-mindedness and stubborness in even making any sort of effort to understand a damn thing from my view. I remember when I COULD NOT WAIT to move out. Oh, how things have changed! I’ve been going home every weekend since I moved out in July. Not just to do my laundry and go grocery shopping in their pantry, but to actually spend time with them. I find myself actually making more plans with my parents than with my friends. It’s like moving out actually improved my relationship with my parents and made us more patient with one another. I’ve actually enjoyed the conversations I have with them and I actually look forward to my weekends so I could talk about something neat that happened at work, or bring over some food that I bought and wanted them to try. Last weekend, I actually cried on the way home from my parents’ house. It was so crazy! I was so sad to leave. It’s kind of sad that my relationship wth my parents didn’t become like this until I moved out. But at the end of the day, I’m just grateful that it eventually did, and I wouldn’t have things any other way.