Grown Up

My family came to visit me a little over a week ago and I have been at a loss for words since. They have left this imprint on my apartment and on my days. Ive been trying to explain exactly what happened when they came and how much it all meant to me but it keeps coming out super cheesy. Ill give it one last go.

They came on a Monday. I cleaned all Sunday night and Monday morning to ensure that they did not think I was a slob. Not that I am a slob but with my daily cleaning many things get overlooked. Vacuuming is a rarity and my dusting days are an endangered species. Basically, the only time the vacuuming and dusting get done, and they always get done together, is when I have visitors from out of town on their way. And even then, sometimes I still don't do it. But this was my family's first time ever visiting me in Denver. This was the first time my family was ever visiting me when I had my own place. This was the first time that they were ever meeting grown up Johnny.

I realized once they came out to my car that I was no grown up. My desire for acceptance and approval began once we approached my car. Ever since I was younger I realized that there is a direct correlation to how responsible he sees a person and the condition of their car. One of the biggest impressions that would carry through the weekend all began with how he viewed the condition of my car.

Oh, you got the windows tinted huh? When did you get that done?

Ive had that for awhile. I got it done as soon as I got to Denver.

Oh.

That killed me. What the hell does that mean? Did he like the tinted windows? Did he think it made the car look too ghetto? Whats wrong with tinted windows? It keeps the sun off the leather. It makes the car look sportier. Ill take it off.

It looks good.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, I thought, Go on.

You keep it in good condition. I was kind of expecting to see it all banged up like the Honda.

Awhile back while I was still an undergrad, my parents came to visit and saw that my Honda had taken a beating from being parked in Queens. I don't think my father ever believed that the dents were received from random hit and runs while my car parked for the day but it was true. I was surprised that he hadn't taken a look at the engine before we left the airport.

Let me take a look under the hood.

Were the first words out of his mouth as we parked in my garage. Before any luggage was handled or a trip upstairs to see my apartment was undergone, my father had a need to look under the hood of my car. Like anyone cleans their engine. I do. Another hurdle passed. My father was proud of my car cleanliness and upkeep. Now the apartment.

Surprisingly there wasn't anything that they could point out that they didn't like. In fact, they seemed rather impressed with my choices in decoration and layout. My mother still offered to redo it, but more out of her desire to decorate than anything else. But even she realized that the current setup was the best possible. I know this all sounds really corny but you don't understand my need for acceptance with my parents. Its weird because I couldn't care less what anyone else thinks, but with my parents a negative reaction could be fatal to my well being. So there is a lot of thought that goes into everything that I do that would be judged by them. House decorating and cleanliness is definitely one of those things. And my reward: A handshake from my father and a Congratulations, I'm proud of you.