Now, don’t get me wrong. I am very appreciative of the opportunity my parents are giving me. After two years of costly dental procedures, I am no where near where I should be, financially. It’s a burden, for sure, but I’ve been able to get by with my current bills. Unfortunately, the increased bills that would have come along with the new apartment would have crippled me rather quickly and I knew I couldn’t live like that. My parents’ generosity offers me a chance to breathe and truly save for my future. A future that is quickly approaching and one that I’m anxious to get to. That doesn’t help some of the depression associated with moving back home, though.

I’m a boomerang kid. That’s the term for someone who moves out of their parents’ house and then moves back in at a later time, usually due to financial difficulties. The stigma bothers me a bit, yeah, but the change that comes along with this move gets to me the most. I love my current apartment and even the new apartment wouldn’t have come close to this place. The apartment, itself, is also closer to work and Melanie which means I can easily walk to work and get to Melanie within an hour. Now, on days the trains aren’t running correctly, I have to figure out how to get to work. Coming home from Staten Island isn’t going to be a picnic either.

Beyond the traveling issues, comes the privacy issue. I love coming home to an often empty apartment and being alone for a little bit. It’s soothing, especially for someone who works in a very busy retail environment. Home isn’t going to be as peaceful. I’m going to be tested on some days, that’s for sure.

I guess all of this amounts to me feeling a little depressed over the situation. I wish I could afford to continue to live on my own, but the truth is that I can’t and my parents are saving me from inevitable debt. It’s a case of logic and emotion. Logically, this all makes complete sense. Emotionally, I may need some time to realize that.

Today, my mom had asked me and my two sister’s to go to church as a family for Christmas. We kids haven’t gone to church in a while, so we thought it would be nice to give something to my mom that means so much to her. We went and, so quickly, I realized why this particular parish and so many others are failing. The ceremony was very solemn, which is needed to a certain degree, but also so depressing. The music didn’t have any kind of joyous tone to it and the sermon was ridiculously awful. The sermon mentioned the words “pain” and “wounds” and “depression” more than the 14th suicide note from a hyper emotional teen. To add to that, the deacon jumped from point to point like one of today’s many ADHD ridden children. It was painful (ha) to listen to.

A leader needs to be motivational and inspirational. People need care about the words they say and not count the minutes until it’s all over. Priests need to be that. Deacons need to be that. Most of them aren’t and that’s the problem with this church.

Saturday night, after a day in the city with Joe, I came home to find my wireless keyboard not working. It seemed as though my wireless receiver was not getting power. Unfortunately, my computer wouldn’t boot up unless it could find a keyboard (I forgot to disable the setting that halts boot up on a keyboard error). Multiple attempts at getting the keyboard working failed miserably and I was getting frustrated. By some chance, I happened to plug the USB receiver into my iPod’s charger and it lit up and synced with my keyboard. This was obviously not a path to go down, but I did nonetheless. Now convinced that it was a power issue, I asked my mom to drive me over to Best Buy (I don’t drive and it was too late for a train ride). I bought a powered USB hub, brought it home, and cursed myself out when it didn’t work. I gave up for the night and resigned to buying a new keyboard/mouse combo in the morning.

Sunday, after work, I picked up with Microsoft Wireless Desktop 3000. With a little time to spare before having to run out to Staten Island to meet Melanie after she got out of work, I decided to hook it up. Nothing. Same exact results as with my old keyboard. I grabbed my roommate’s wired USB keyboard and the same thing happened. Then, it finally hit me. For some reason, my motherboard was looking for a PS/2 keyboard (this happened once before) and, of course, we threw out the one we had in the apartment.

My mind was racing when I remember that my dad’s computer is pretty old and/or I may have left a spare keyboard there. With no time to waste, I grabbed my other roommate’s bike (without asking) and raced to my parents. After realizing I didn’t leave a spare behind, I told my dad I was taking his keyboard for 20 minutes. I grabbed it, threw it in my backpack and raced back to the apartment in the increasingly hot 94 degree weather. I get inside my room, plug the PS/2 keyboard in and voila! My system booted, I disabled the option to halt boot on a keyboard error and plugged in the new Microsoft set. Out of curiosity, though, I tried my old keyboard and it freaking worked. It was a quick decision, though, when I realized that having to wet the contacts on my aging wireless mouse to get it to charge wasn’t exactly safe and that the old keyboard hasn’t been problem free in the past few months, anyway.

Relieved to have a working keyboard, I made one last quick dash back to my parents’ house to return the PS/2 keyboard and then raced home, showered and headed out to Staten Island. What a day that was.

My grandma isn’t exactly young. To be precise, she’s 84 years old. Somehow, though, in all defiance of age, she’s more active than many people I know, including a lot of people my age. Before Melanie and I even got there, she had already painted parts of the kitchen which included climbing up on a step ladder and all. When she told me this, I was a bit concerned, but she wasn’t. She refuses to let age stop her. I want to be like my grandma as I get older. I want to be able to hold on to that youthful energy and zeal for life. I only hope I can be so fortunate.

Mom: If it weren’t for you, living on my own would be extremely difficult, with the way things at work have panned out. You’ve been amazingly supportive in every way imaginable and I’m not sure a simple “thank you” can ever capture the true amount of appreciation I have for what you do. Thank you, though, for everything.

Grandma: You’re always understanding and sympathetic and always wind up throwing small snacks my way which are a cherished treat. You also make some amazing mashed potatoes and meatloaf, which is appreciated even more. You’re the best.

To every other mother that I know who has been supportive and helpful, including Melanie’s mom, Cindy, and both of her grandmothers, Happy Mothers Day!