They say that one of the great ironies of life is that for the first thirdof it, your parents take care of you; for the middle third you take care of yourself; and the during the last third you take care of your parents. I’ve been blessed with very healthy and independent parents, so I thought that I might even beat the odds and never find myself in the awkward position of having to care for my folks.
While they were visiting this past week, I got the barest hint that perhaps my hopes were premature. The day that my parents were to leave, my father comes in the living room and tells me that my computer is broken.
Me: “What’s wrong with it?”
Dad: “I don’t know, it won’t boot up.”
Me: “What did you do to it?!”
Dad: “Nothing! I swear that it broke on it’s own!”
At this point I must have given him the “I’m very disappointed in you look” because he hung his head in shame and meekly followed me back down the stairs to see for myself. Sure enough, the computer wouldn’t boot and gave every indication that my hard drive was fried.
I’m still waiting on an expert opinion on how salvagable my files might be, but really that’s besides the point. Who would have thought that such a simple incident would herald a great transition in my life?
From now on, my parents are going to be looking to me for direction and guidance and I’m going to have to pretend that I’ve been paying attention long enough to provide answers that can be printed in 42 pt font and bulleted!
Dear Readers, some of you are already living this role reversal and now I can fully appreciate what you’re going through. For those of you who’s parents are still in possession of all of their faculties and can still determine that they’re not wearing underwear BEFORE they leave the house, just wait, your time is coming!
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