I moved home to my parents house a few weeks before I got married... for the last time... It was a Wednesday. When nighttime came my bed was still surrounded with piles of clothes and dishes and bags. My bathroom was the most organized, so I was able to think as I brushed my teeth that night. I noticed the granite countertop and the way it shined purple. Eleven years prior my mom took me to the granite quarry and let me choose my very favorite granite for my very own bathroom. She took me with her to select the brick for the exterior of our house. She valued my ten year-old opinion and instilled confidence within me. I have good parents. Even before I was old enough to date my mom reminded me daily, that "I was the catch". And when I returned home late from a date one time my dad was up waiting by the door to greet my date and me. I have good parents. My freshman year at the dorms I committed to run everyday, and when I couldn't go until it was late at night (sometimes midnight) my dad would drive down to campus with our dog and run the stairs with me without a compliant. When I was sick in college my mom would provide me with endless orange juice and airborne and welcomed me home late at night when I needed more love than an apartment could offer. I have good parents. So now that I'm married and staring my own family I hope I will be the kind of parent that my children will remember their granite countertops with fondness, like I do mine. And perhaps they will think, "I have good parents".
