You and I

I never realized until now that we might be no strangers in our parents' homes but that they are in ours. My parents are never as comfortable in my house as I am in theirs, they shift and shuffle looking so utterly out of place that it makes me feel guilty for having invited them in the first place and thereby inflicting this agony upon them. This year, however, M. and I are spending a beautiful, calm little Christmas on our own, growing up quietly while being incurably childish at the same time. Yesterday I told him: "You know, I am so glad we met early in life, so I can forever be that 16-year-old girl and you the 20-year-old boy."