Being at my parent's house is like camping at a disorganized bookstore. The shower has no pressure, the toilet is subject to breakage, the refrigerator is a time-capsule, the heater heats mostly the dining table, and books cover every surface of the house.
Being at my parent's house is an academic experience. Every night my parent's watch the PBS Newshour, read, take a walk, and then watch a documentary (or independent film).
Generally after the documentary, my mom becomes sleepy and goes to bed. My dad stays up and composes his organ Music,
In the morning, my mom wakes up early and takes a walk to procure nourishment from Whole Foods. My dad wakes up and unfreezes his Safeway Select waffles. He eats them with berries on top. My parent's leisurely read, while waking up to the morning sun.
I love my parent's house. I love my parents. I soak up the atmosphere like a sponge. I feel like I have been waiting all my life to just sleep in a field of books with my parents. My heart is filled with love, and my head is overwhelmed with knowledge.
(A note-- so I don't forget-- Years ago, people called my dad 'the berry man' at the flea market buy a huge box of berries and then bike away)
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