This post is dedicated to a friend who I have learned from through the course of my life. Here, I am narrating a story which is essentially hers, with a few modifications on my part. For security and safety, no names are taken.  

It was a bright, cold day in December when I walked out of the house where I had stayed with my parents. I could almost feel my parents’ thoughts. My father looked sad – there was nothing more saddening for him than to see his only daughter walk out of the house and live in another part of the city. My mother was in tears – what would the neighbors think? Every time she would walk over to the nearby greengrocer, questions about her daughter’s existence in a separate place would be raised, she wailed accusingly. 

Why did you not raise her properly? Why can’t you make her see that living separately will ultimately tarnish her reputation? You should have told her about the safety factor. Why is she staying in the edge of the city when you have such a lovely home right here? So what its fifteen kilometers from where she works, why can’t she stay with you?
I tried to explain to them – it was NOT THEIR FAULT. The workplace was too far away, and I was wasting three hours of my life for the last one year to commute, and I really needed to be somewhere closer to my office. It was that simple. No, it was not because I was angry with them. No, I did not have a single grudge against them. No, I was perfectly sane.
I picked up the last bag and dragged it down to the waiting taxi. My parents did not wave me goodbye. I put the bag in the trunk of the car, climbed up to the driver’s seat, and drove away to my new destination. My eyes were dry – I could not cry because it was too dangerous to cry while driving, but then again, I was remembering their faces when I had walked out. Why didn’t they understand that my career was important to me, and I was trying my best to make it better?
The drive was not a very smooth one, but in the end, I reached my destination. I had a considerable amount of luggage, and the building where I was staying did not have a lift, so I heaved out the first thing I saw, and climbed up the stairs.
The new house was neat, clean, and the rent was cheap. I turned on the lights and fan, closed the door behind me, and sat down on the lone bean bag which I had hefted upstairs, my head nearly drooping with exhaustion. The day had not been a nice one, and I needed to cry.
Just then, the doorbell rang. I jumped at the sudden sound, hurried to the door, and opened it.
My parents stood outside.
I was speechless.
“We thought you needed help to set up your new place. So we decided to come over.” My father smiled warmly, and I stared at them for a few seconds before bursting out in tears.

We had a lovely time that day, setting up my new flat, and the memory still makes me happy. 
Disclaimer: This post is in association with Housing.com. For more, check out #together
Written by Poorna Banerjee

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