On Leaving the Nest
2 September 2019
The day I watched (and filmed) the retreating back of my parents as they entered the train gates of Rotterdam Centraal station, hoping they wouldn't turn back and see the tears on my face. It's time. It's time for me to begin this exchange journey, away from home, away from the people who have taken care of me since before I was even born. Even with the prospect that we may meet in a few days' time in Amsterdam should I choose to join them on the last lap of their holiday, this moment of separation was really something I was completely unprepared for.
Maybe it's because I had them with me the past few days - coming to Rotterdam with me, travelling around and exploring the city with me, going to my campus together, helping me settle into my new place... They've been with me every step of the way. Even when I told them that I wouldn't need them, that I would be fine alone, I have come to realise that without them I really wouldn't have been able to do anything.
So as I wave them off to begin this new chapter in my life, I can't help but think: maybe this whole solo, independent thing is really not for me. Maybe what I really need is my parents with me. Maybe I don't ever want to leave the warm nest that my parents have built for me. Is it bad? Is this a sign that I've been coddled so much that I now can't live on my own? Maybe. But I choose to see it as an obvious sign of how good parents mine have been. I may have traveled alone, done things without them and definitely had times where I wished they wouldn't bother me. But in the end, I can't do it without them. I don't want to live a life without them; I don't want to be those people I see where they're fine with only visiting their parents once a month or once a year. No, I want to live close by, I want to be able to see them everyday just like how I've been doing all my life.
At home, we don't talk much. We don't sit and chat for hours, neither do we always have meals together. More often than not, our time at home consists of me waking up when the sun is high up in the sky, then lying in bed for at least another hour or until my presence is demanded for lunch - whichever is earlier. After that, I'm back to my room until I'm summoned for dinner. Even in meals, we don't always have exciting conversations - sometimes the entire 30-minutes is in silence. Yet, I've come to realise that it's the presence. It's knowing that they're there when you need them, that you can walk into a room knowing they're there to answer any question you might have that's what's so important in a home. Anyone can live together. But to live like a family - where you don't really interact much, but knowing that someone's there when you need them, is something that can't be replicated just like that. It takes time to build that familiarity and comfort.
So as I enter my home for the next 4 months, I turn on the radio to play Capital 95.8, something my mother can't live without. I let it run the entire day, only stopping when I wanted to watch a video or two. I hang random clothes about the place, just like at home where Mummy would hang damp clothes to dry or towels to air. I fix the lamp and stare at the wires coming from the ceiling (a light is supposed to hang from there, but the previous owner couldn't find a proper light so I'm left with using random lamps about the place), thinking of how Daddy bought the light bulb for me, and taught me how to attach a lamp to those wires should I choose to buy one.
All in all, I try to make my room feel more like my home. I don't like living without my parents. Maybe I'm too attached. I'll acknowledge that.
I thought living in school would prepare me to live alone. But the difference is huge. When I was in school, there was never any worry - if I wanted to go home, I could. At most, it would be an expensive taxi ride in the middle of the night back home. If I forgot anything, I could just get it during the weekend when I got home. But here, home is a 14-hour flight away. If I forget anything, postage will take probably a few weeks and a lot of money. In this country I'm not familiar with, amongst people with whom I stand out like a sore thumb, it feels like I'm all alone. Nothing prepared me for this.
Do I want to experience this again? If you ask me right now I think my answer would be a no - I want to go home. I want Mummy and Daddy. But I think it's a necessary season in my life. To learn to live alone, to learn to legitimately be without my parents, at least for 4 months. Mummy and Daddy can't come flying over to help me if there're any issues over here.
So here's to really leaving the nest. To living here in Rotterdam for the next 4 months. To learning to be independent, and maybe try to be even a quarter as good as Mummy is at taking care of myself and having that motherly instinct to know exactly what to bring and what to do.
See you in 4 months Singapore. See you in 4 months, family. See you in 4 months, friends. I'll miss you all.
Hope™
The day I watched (and filmed) the retreating back of my parents as they entered the train gates of Rotterdam Centraal station, hoping they wouldn't turn back and see the tears on my face. It's time. It's time for me to begin this exchange journey, away from home, away from the people who have taken care of me since before I was even born. Even with the prospect that we may meet in a few days' time in Amsterdam should I choose to join them on the last lap of their holiday, this moment of separation was really something I was completely unprepared for.
Maybe it's because I had them with me the past few days - coming to Rotterdam with me, travelling around and exploring the city with me, going to my campus together, helping me settle into my new place... They've been with me every step of the way. Even when I told them that I wouldn't need them, that I would be fine alone, I have come to realise that without them I really wouldn't have been able to do anything.
So as I wave them off to begin this new chapter in my life, I can't help but think: maybe this whole solo, independent thing is really not for me. Maybe what I really need is my parents with me. Maybe I don't ever want to leave the warm nest that my parents have built for me. Is it bad? Is this a sign that I've been coddled so much that I now can't live on my own? Maybe. But I choose to see it as an obvious sign of how good parents mine have been. I may have traveled alone, done things without them and definitely had times where I wished they wouldn't bother me. But in the end, I can't do it without them. I don't want to live a life without them; I don't want to be those people I see where they're fine with only visiting their parents once a month or once a year. No, I want to live close by, I want to be able to see them everyday just like how I've been doing all my life.
At home, we don't talk much. We don't sit and chat for hours, neither do we always have meals together. More often than not, our time at home consists of me waking up when the sun is high up in the sky, then lying in bed for at least another hour or until my presence is demanded for lunch - whichever is earlier. After that, I'm back to my room until I'm summoned for dinner. Even in meals, we don't always have exciting conversations - sometimes the entire 30-minutes is in silence. Yet, I've come to realise that it's the presence. It's knowing that they're there when you need them, that you can walk into a room knowing they're there to answer any question you might have that's what's so important in a home. Anyone can live together. But to live like a family - where you don't really interact much, but knowing that someone's there when you need them, is something that can't be replicated just like that. It takes time to build that familiarity and comfort.
So as I enter my home for the next 4 months, I turn on the radio to play Capital 95.8, something my mother can't live without. I let it run the entire day, only stopping when I wanted to watch a video or two. I hang random clothes about the place, just like at home where Mummy would hang damp clothes to dry or towels to air. I fix the lamp and stare at the wires coming from the ceiling (a light is supposed to hang from there, but the previous owner couldn't find a proper light so I'm left with using random lamps about the place), thinking of how Daddy bought the light bulb for me, and taught me how to attach a lamp to those wires should I choose to buy one.
All in all, I try to make my room feel more like my home. I don't like living without my parents. Maybe I'm too attached. I'll acknowledge that.
I thought living in school would prepare me to live alone. But the difference is huge. When I was in school, there was never any worry - if I wanted to go home, I could. At most, it would be an expensive taxi ride in the middle of the night back home. If I forgot anything, I could just get it during the weekend when I got home. But here, home is a 14-hour flight away. If I forget anything, postage will take probably a few weeks and a lot of money. In this country I'm not familiar with, amongst people with whom I stand out like a sore thumb, it feels like I'm all alone. Nothing prepared me for this.
Do I want to experience this again? If you ask me right now I think my answer would be a no - I want to go home. I want Mummy and Daddy. But I think it's a necessary season in my life. To learn to live alone, to learn to legitimately be without my parents, at least for 4 months. Mummy and Daddy can't come flying over to help me if there're any issues over here.
So here's to really leaving the nest. To living here in Rotterdam for the next 4 months. To learning to be independent, and maybe try to be even a quarter as good as Mummy is at taking care of myself and having that motherly instinct to know exactly what to bring and what to do.
See you in 4 months Singapore. See you in 4 months, family. See you in 4 months, friends. I'll miss you all.
Hope™
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