This picture was taken the last time it was just me living with my parents (1983). Note Randall's sweet cookie duster.

All good things must come to an end. It has been a little over two weeks back in Regina, and I’m packed and ready for a 6:30 a.m. departure. I think I’m going to sleep snuggling with my passport and one eye open as I am so happy to have my work visa stamp and I’m not chancing anything happening to it. I really don’t need any more unpleasant paperwork surprises.

Since arriving back on Canadian soil, the top two questions people have asked me (in the following order) are:

1) What thing have you missed the most? This I have to say is a tie between snuggling under a comforter in bed and jogging in Wascana Park.

2) What has it been like to live back with your parents?  . . . This is a more complicated question to answer, but I will try.

Basically it’s not much different than it was from the very beginning of my life. My mom has essentially gone out of her way to make sure I am looked after, but I must say she’s getting better at letting go of the little stresses. I only counted her saying “Oh Dear” 25 times and “Ai Yo” (the sinhala equivalent) twice. One other change is that she has taken up running. This is different from the Jazzercise classes I remember her attending decked out in a florescent pink top, spandex, leg warmers and a headband. She even had a “Jazzercise” fanny pack.

In the meantime, my father is doing many tasks all which are intricately tracked on yellow sticky note to do lists and crossed off as he completes them. I may be wrong, but I believe he files the completed to do lists afterwards and organizes them according to date so that he can quickly retrieve them if ever needed. He would fit in perfectly with the Sri Lankan bureaucratic system. Some of the tasks he had on the go while I was there were:

– rust protecting and painting two metal frames (welded by cousin Darryl) that are being used to hold down two tarps which are protecting the garage floor from car seepage, etc.

– measuring and precisely cutting out pieces of the stuff you put under chairs so they won’t scratch the hardwood floors. My father puts this stuff underneath absolutely everything that touches either the hard wood floor or a painted wall.

– telling bad jokes to the neighbours and phoning people for the sole purpose of telling them a bad joke

The following pictures further illustrate the similarities of living with my parents back when I was growing up compared to now.

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