Today, on the way home from Barnes and Noble, my mom was telling me how she is considering moving out of our house and Saratoga after Mei graduates. This isn't unexpected news for me, and it makes sense--it's not practical to occupy such a large space with only two people. Saratoga is, after all, the most expensive suburb in America (according to Yahoo News a couple months ago). But my parents' main concern turns out to be the stairs. They think a three-story house will be inconvenient and possibly dangerous for them, in the future. Then, it hit me that my parents are in their fifties, and while they exercise every day and maintain a healthy diet, the aging process of one's body is inevitable and can only be countered to a certain degree. When I come home during breaks, I view it as a reprieve from the exhausting whirlwind of school and independence, a chance to have someone else cook the food, clean the floors, take out the trash, and kill the bugs, for a change. But contrary to my parents taking care of me, has the time come for me to start taking care of them?
At the doctor's office, I was filling out some health forms, and my dad mentioned that he sort of has high blood pressure, so I read a brochure about that and wondered, "Should I start monitoring his exercise and diet?" It's such an alien concept...maybe because Mei is a lot younger than me, so I still see my parents monitoring her all the time, being Parents with a capital P, or the "tiger mom" as my mom calls herself now. But if I eliminate this factor and simply observe my parents in relation to me, I realize that the turning point is nearer than I thought.
It makes me sad, to be honest.
I know this is a natural part of life, but...it came too soon. It never really occurred to me to take care of my parents. Yes, when one of them was going through a stressful period, I'd be there for them of course. I'd take Mom out for a walk, or listen to Dad vent for literally hours, and just...be the best support possible. But those were always temporary reversal of roles, and pretty soon, we'd be back to, "Jennifer, did you brush your teeth today?" and "Don't slouch!" I can barely fathom the change as something permanent--checking up on them, instead of them checking up on me...nagging at them to eat well and exercise instead of vice versa. I remember talking to A about her parents last year. They are much older than the average college student's parents, so she is already thinking about their health care, insurance, getting a job near their house, visiting them and so on. At the time, I admired her responsibility and kindness, but it seemed very removed from my personal life...something far in the distance. I didn't imagine myself in her position anytime soon. I still don't think I'm in that position yet...I mean, today after dinner when I suggested going to Barnes and Noble, we were standing around in the kitchen with a huge pile of dishes in the sink, my dad says, "Fine, I'll do the dishes, you two can go now before it closes," and my mom goes, "YAY!" and dashes off to get her keys. I'm very used to seeing them this way--as the healthy, often child-like, cute little Asian parents...but the time IS nearer than I think. There's nothing morbid or depressing about it, I have to reassure myself--just a reminder to pull my own weight, especially when I'm actually at home.
