Orphan

My parents come home this Sunday. I say, it's about time. Now that they're retired they can do things like take month and a half long tours around New Zealand (photo from their travels above). I don't know about you guys, but when I did the requisite study abroad (in New Zealand) I wrote these epic emails to friends and family about what I'd been up to. I've read some of them, years later, and they are sprawling, rambling, information-filled tomes filled with names of mysterious towns, new best friends, hilarity, and drama. I put some effort into those.

Do you know what I get from my parents? Three sentences, at most a small paragraph, of point-blank information with the occasional exclamation reminding me that I am at work, sitting at a desk, in a town that refuses to acknowledge spring.

Some excerpts:

We are flying to Christchurch this afternoon.  We are healthy.

We spent last night up the Hokatika River with the black flies.  They left us with fond memories.   

Just wanted to let you know we are okay.  We are in Puhrara on Gold Bay.  We waded into the Tasman Sea today.  Life is wonderful.  

While they were gone I went through a crisis with my taxes, Newt got in a dog fight, and my car broke down (my dad is my mechanic). I have to admit that I had some moments of separation anxiety but I like to think that I conquered them and found adult solutions to these problems. Or not. I took my taxes to accountant, abandoned my car and started biking everywhere, and Laurence took care of Newt. I'm glad they're finally coming home.