When my parents visited me in London in 2012, it was their very first trip abroad. They stayed with me; I gave them my bed while I slept on the floor on an inflatable mattress.
At the time, I was renting a house with three other friends. None of us liked the house, so our plan was to find a new place and move as soon as our 6-month lease was over.
The house had four bedrooms, and we split the rent unequally based on size and other factors. I paid the least because I picked the smallest bedroom (featured before on this blog). It also had a lumpy mattress and no attached bathroom. It had nice light though, which counts for a lot.
I was working at a law firm, and could easily have afforded one of the "better" rooms. But I reasoned that since I didn't like the house anyway and planned to move as soon as possible, I may as well save some money.
I was recently going through my stuff and found a letter from my mum, which she left on the last day of their stay.
It says:
Bugai, [my nickname]
We tidied your room as far as possible. We cleaned the microwave oven too. Your phone SIM is under the white cup on your table.
When you shift, please don't choose the most inconvenient room. We want you to have a good life for yourself. It was no problem at all for us, but at the end of a long day, you should sleep in a nice room, on a nice bed. Next time we'll come for a longer holiday.
—Mum
Blog notes:
- Here, in case you missed it, is Unconditional Love: part 1.)
- In 2023 I wrote more posts than any year since 2015. I think 24 posts a year (two per month) is a good number to aim for. Let's see if I can keep it up.
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