I'm back in LA now, continuing the job search. But I felt I should comment on what it was like helping my parents move into their new house. It was kind of surreal, because it was honestly like I was setting the place up for my children to visit.
There were all these toys I had used when I was a kid, and since my mom was a neat freak who raised us all to be neat freaks who took care of our stuff, they were all still in great condition. When I eventually have kids, my parents house will become "grandma and grandpa's house" and they'll play with the same blocks as I did over twenty years ago.
I was especially aware of this possibility because this wasn't just them moving. They had designed that house to be the one they live in for the rest of their lives. They planned on everything. The master bathroom tub has a shower thingy in it so they can bathe grandkids.
It's not like my parents are impatiently waiting for me to knock someone up. Quite the opposite actually. It's just that they prepared for the possibility. And since my birthday is tomorrow, I'm aware of how I'm getting older. When I see people with kids on the street, I identify with the parents, not the kids, and that's frightening to me.
Basically, it's the realization that this whole "growing up" thing is for real. Not matter what you do it happens, so chances are I'll be moving onto the next step sooner than I think.
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