I got together with a group of friends this weekend, and the talk quickly turned to the Super Bowl — who cared, who didn’t, who should win, who should falter, who would bet on it. One friend mentioned she’d be MIA — her 2-year-old nephew had asked her to come home.
It made me think about last year’s Super Bowl, the tragic Steelers loss against the greasy-haired Packers. (Can you tell I’m a Pittsburgh fan?) I’d gone home for the game because I didn’t really know any football fans in Carlisle, where I lived at the time. I enjoyed some buffalo chicken dip and black-and-yellow spirit in my dad’s “man cave,” on a flat-screen TV quite a bit nicer than my 30-inch box.
This year, I’ll stay in York. I haven’t been home yet in 2012. In fact, I haven’t been home since Labor Day last year. And when I think about it, such a long hiatus between trips to my Connecticut hometown seems strange — even more so than a Steelers-free Super Bowl.
I’m used to seeing my family pretty regularly. Even thought my parents and younger brother live about four hours north, they come down for weekend trips on the way to my grandparents’ western Pa. home quite a bit. I see my sister less, but still four or five times a year. But its seemed to wane as I’ve found my footing in York. I go home less because there’s plenty to get into here. And as I settle in more, I go home less.
Some 20-somethings live close to their parents, and maybe see them more. Others have to board a plane to head home, and perhaps see them much less. But overall, have you experienced this shift as you’ve adjusted in 20-something life on your own? Is it just a part of growing up that you spend fewer weekends with the ‘rents? Or do you see your parents more than when you were in college?