I arrived at my parents’ house this evening to my mom peering out the window. She had already buzzed the gate in anticipation of my arrival home. She has been under the weather, so she didn’t give me the usual hug and kiss, but instead kept walking around me as I unpacked my bags and gifts for her, asking me endless questions. She’s so excited to see me that she bombards me with questions, asking about everything from the food I ate on the plane to weather the flight attendants were nice to me. It’s the way she shows she cares and loves, I suppose.
Then, my dad poked his head out of his bedroom and greeted me from down the hallway. He asked how my flight was, if everything was smooth and on time. Then, he went back into his room and onto his computer. It’s the usual routine: a little small talk and a greeting, and then back to his usual hermit self.
I don’t really know if this behavior annoys me anymore. If anything, it’s more just a routine with the way my parents are. Their behavior at this point in my life is extremely predictable, as they always go through the same questions, the same motions, the same exhibition of their own foibles. Perhaps predictability isn’t necessarily a bad thing in this case.