Calling Home

So I've been pretending to be okay.  Actually, I thought I was okay, but for the past hour or so, I've been fighting back tears.  And as I'm alone, and everyone who reads this loves me, I have decided to write it down so I can hopefully go back to writing the paper I am supposed to be writing.

So my parents' house burned down on Wednesday.  That really, really sucks.  I was pretty worried on Wednesday until I got to talk with them, and even then I felt not so great.  I did think I was all better the next day.  I am not all better.

I don't really care about my parents' house.  I know that sounds terrible, but the truth is, the house matters very little to me.  It hasn't been my house for twelve years, and the place their house sits, not the house itself, is what matters to me.  Not being able to pull into the driveway would be devastating.  (I know I'm weird.)  Sure, some of my stuff was in it, but it all appears to be fine.  That's great.  My parents will probably recover most of the stuff they really cared about after some serious cleaning.  That's also really, really great.  It's not great that they and my brother have to figure life out until they have a new house and some new stuff.  It's not really great that the house my dad grew up in is unlivable. That's the part that makes me upset.  And the thing is, I know they're okay, and I know that they will be okay.  They are really good at fielding life's curve balls, and they always land on their feet.  Lots of people who really love them are helping them out right now.  I'm not really worried about them (so I told you the truth, Dad, when you called on Friday).  But I am upset  for them about all of this mess.  And because I am who I am, I want to fix it.  And I can't.  They don't actually need my help, anyway.  No one can fix this one quickly, least of all me.
And you know what?  Two years ago, I wouldn't have been this upset and distracted.  I have been trying to figure out why I am so distractingly upset for them in the midst of being really glad that they chucked that couch I have always hated.  I think the reason I can't stop crying today is because I just figured out that I really, really, really love my parents, and despite the physical distance, I feel closer to them now than I have at any point in my life.
Two years ago when I moved out here to attend Bah Ram U I started talking to them more than I have ever talked to them as an adult.  My parents and I rarely talked as often as once a week before I moved out here.  We all get along, but we didn't need to talk all the time.  That's just the way our family works.  Only then I started having to commute everyday, and I started calling home to talk 2-3 times a week on my way to school.  (Judge away on the talking while driving bit; it kept me awake some days, so I'm going to argue I was a safer driver.) I discovered I like talking to them.  I am cool with them knowing my business, and I want to know what's going on in their lives.  They're probably irritated with the frequency of my calls and the amount of complaining I do about little things in my life during those calls.  Whatever their thoughts on the subject, I like calling home.
So yeah, I brought this on myself, I guess.  I love you Mom and Dad, and I'm sorry things are not so great right now.