I’ve never thought of myself in terms of being the girl you’d bring home to meet your parents. It isn’t that I see myself as wild or what have you. It’s just I’ve never seen myself as the marrying kind and therefore not the kind to go home to your family.
Beloved of course saw things differently. So he brought me home to meet his mother and his entire family. I swear it felt like meeting a small village, in a strange land. All I really wanted to do was get used to the new land first, but on the second day he insisted we pop round to meet the family. All of them. For a nice tea. Or so he said. I’ve yet to find a nice tea to be honest.
Since that time we’ve witnessed nieces and nephews bring people around to meet the family, the whole family of course. A rite of passage I guess. An honor some would say.
Maybe I’d feel differently if I felt the urge to get someone else’s approval about Beloved, but the way I see it, I’m the one living with him so who else need some to approve anything. And maybe that’s my right of passage for him, letting him come into my life so fully. To become a sense of home for me.